You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream
by Bre-dust2dust34
Summary: The random Olicity-ness in my head. These will include everything from drabbles to ficlets to short stories, depending on length. Includes alternate canon and alternate universe (my canon ficlets can be found in my Questions I Can't Ask collection).
1. Arrow

**Arrow**

by Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: T  
Author's Notes: I need a place to write the random Olicity-ness in my head while I write my first Olicity multi-chapter. It's become consuming in a bad way, and so this is my way of stepping out of it. These will include everything from drabbles to ficlets to short stories, depending on length.

Summary: AU, one-shot. Felicity and Thea go into a tattoo shop. (Based on a recent tattoo text post on Tumblr, and on a scene from a romance novel I read once upon a time. Because apparently that's my life: tattoos and fictional romance.)

* * *

Soft chatter and a very distinct buzzing noise filled her ears, making her skin feel extra tight and kind of itchy. The buzzing stopped and started intermittently, without any real pattern, and she had to wonder how that must feel, a bunch of needles stabbing into your skin over and over and over again… It was making her jumpy.

They'd already filled out all the paperwork, had their ID's checked and now they were just… waiting.

The random sound of Sin flipping through a magazine was putting her even more on edge. The barely legal teenager sat at the heavily-stickered-and-drawing-covered desk, fingers tapping, looking like sitting in a place where people came in to have something permanently etched into their skin was the most boring place in the world.

She could not be any more wrong.

Felicity Smoak stared at the wall, eyes darting everywhere, unable to find one thing to focus on.

The green neon sign in the window - "Green Arrow Tattoo &amp; Piercing" - gave all the drawings an unearthly glow, highlighting all the colors and the greyscale and the tribals and the flowers and the dragons and the…

She blinked. The entire wall felt like it was coming to life, forcing a huge, very permanent life decision on her.

"I change my mind," she blurted.

Thea Queen sighed loudly. "This is the fourth time, 'Lis. You're freaking out."

"What if I don't like flowers in five years? What if I don't like the color blue? What if it isn't done right, or what if I get really fat and it stretches and then I lose all the weight and it's a saggy flower?" Felicity pointed at each picture as she talked, "Or a saggy dragon, or heart, or knife, or knife in a heart, or moon or sun, or knife in a moon, and wow, there is a definite theme with these, isn't there?"

Thea touched Felicity's shoulder and leaned in. "You're not getting a tattoo, Felicity."

"But this was supposed to be our rebellious college graduation gift to ourselves."

"That's what yours was," Thea pointed out. "Mine is some of that, some I like sunflowers, and some I want to see my mother's face when I show her."

"She will kill you."

"I know she will. You wanna switch moms?"

Felicity snorted. "Donna Smoak would definitely let out a loud, 'Oh my god, so cute!' if I ever did get a tattoo. She will with you too. And then she'll hug you. And possibly ask if you want to get matching ones."

"Yeah, I love your mom." Thea shrugged. "So I'll show her and we just won't mention any of this to Moira. Or we'll show her your very tattoo-less skin to take the attention off me."

"That is a great plan." Felicity hooked her arm with Thea's. "I see that going over very well."

The sound of movement behind a large partition wall caught their attention and they turned in unison as a young man stepped out, staring at a new watercolor cityscape across his inner forearm, followed by…

"Oh crap," Thea whispered. "He wasn't supposed to be here today."

Felicity's heart skipped a couple - or a lot - of beats as she watched Oliver Queen follow him out, sidling up next to Sin. He reached under the desk and pulled out a box full of tiny sample tubes of A&amp;D as he said, "Put it on every couple of hours. Don't put too much on though, don't glob it on there, it can pull some of the ink out. Keep it out of the sun and…"

Felicity had first met Thea when she started MIT.

She had been there on a full scholarship, eager to earn her way out of her Vegas background and the perpetual smell of old sweat and fried food that had developed a permanent residence in her skin and hair from years of waitressing during high school. Thea had been there as a last ditch effort by her parents to force her to focus on something - anything - that would keep her out of the dangerous world of the Glades in her hometown of Starling City.

Felicity hadn't really know what the heck the Glades were - her mind had immediately jumped to a bunch of giant air fresheners as houses - or what Thea had gotten into when she had been there, but she had recognized the classic signs of someone who was lost and anchorless in a sea of despair. They were a pretty frequent sight in Las Vegas.

Somehow Thea and Felicity had been put in the same dorm, assigned to each other as roommates, and they had sparked a connection that had managed to keep Thea in for one painfully bad semester before Felicity found out _why_ Thea was the way she was - and she only found out because the very reason for it appeared out of the blue and at their dorm room with a bundle of crappy flowers on Thursday morning.

Oliver had disappeared five years previous - completely disappeared. One day he was there, the next he wasn't. There were rumors that he had joined the military, that someone had kidnapped him, that his parents had gotten sick of his antics and shoved him off to another country for penance. There were even rumors he had died and the family was covering it up because it was a scandalous story. Even Felicity, all the way over in Vegas, had heard about the crazy stuff he had done before he'd vanished from the public eye.

Thea hadn't taken it well. From the little tidbits Felicity had managed to gather, they had had a connection, and when he left? It took about a year before that tethered connection drove Thea over the edge and she spent the subsequent years in a very dark place.

But the second he had come back - after the initial pushing him away again, getting angry, letting her grades tank… Thea had gotten better. So much better. She'd become a different Thea, and Felicity had reaped the benefits of it.

And by osmosis along the way, she'd seen the same effect on Oliver.

Well, the few times she saw him that is.

It had taken only three incredibly horrifying and awkward encounters with what she had immediately deemed as one of the most gorgeous men she'd ever set eyes on to know that she really should not be around Oliver Queen at all. Ever. Never ever.

Felicity felt the hot prickle of a blush climbing up her neck and spreading across her face as she remembered the few times they had spent more than five minutes together, alone. It was different when there were other people around, she could use them as shields and deflecting mechanisms, especially when she went to the Queen mansion for dinners or for the huge parties she somehow always ended up at despite her protestations.

In fact, the last time she had ended up alone with him without a buffer had been at the Christmas party last year, in one of the upstairs hallways.

He was always so nice, not laughing when she shoved her foot in her mouth or looking annoyed when she couldn't keep her lips glued together. He would give her this smile, a smile that sent a swarm of chills racing up and down her spine and left her feeling like her heart was pumping pure adrenaline instead of just blood.

Her crush on him had been instantaneous, from the second she had gone to lunch with them in the months after his return. It had started out so innocently and then it blew up in her face with a spontaneous smile and breathy chuckle when she blurted how much she noticed when he said he was pretty careful about what he put in his body.

That hadn't been the embarrassing part - the embarrassing part had been when she'd talked about what she put in her body, and how certain parts hadn't had anything put in them for a while, and oh god, she wanted to die from humiliation all over again because who actually _talked_ about that in mixed company?

Just thinking about the way he'd pinched his lips to keep from laughing out loud and Thea staring at her…

Thankfully a man with a really mysterious past who ran a successful tattoo shop in the dead center of the Glades didn't come around too often, especially when Boston wasn't exactly a car drive away, and thankfully her study load at MIT had been heavy. So when he was there, she always begged off and avoided the embarrassment like a skilled ninja.

He wasn't supposed to be here tonight.

Thea just had to pick her brother's tattoo shop, didn't she?

Oliver stopped talking when he finally noticed them.

"Sin will get you the instruction sheet and take care of payment." Oliver murmured a figure to Sin before he offered the kid a friendly smile - one that even Felicity knew was the official Oliver Queen persona and not the man who had come back from his five years of wherever-the-heck-he'd-been - and shook his hand. "Thanks, man."

"No, thank you, dude, this looks amazing."

"I'm glad you like it."

When he looked at Thea again, every inch of congeniality disappeared as he made his way over to them.

"No," he said by way of greeting, shaking his head. "Absolutely not, get out."

Thea smiled thinly. "Sorry, Ollie, I kind of passed that part of being the little sister where you get to order me around a couple years ago." The edge of bitterness wasn't missed by anyone - so maybe Thea wasn't all the way over Oliver's disappearing-reappearing thing. Might have to do with the fact that he hadn't told anyone a thing about where he'd been or what had happened.

Or why he'd come back.

Or why out of all the things a billionaire heir could do, he opened a tattoo shop.

In the middle of the scariest part of Starling City.

Did he even have tattoos?

"You're not getting a tattoo in my shop, Speedy," he said, deliberately emphasizing the nickname she hated. "I don't think you realize what mom would do to me."

"She'll kill you."

"Yeahuh," Oliver said, nodding his head, his eyes wide and slightly shiny in a really terrifyingly menacing way.

Felicity felt Thea's arm tighten where they were linked and she involuntarily stepped closer to her friend. Despite how much Thea wanted everyone to think to the contrary, she knew she wasn't completely over the five years Oliver had been away; there were large parts of her that were still cut off from everyone, including her, mostly because Oliver was still cut off.

It usually came out when he tried to pull the big brother card. Like right now.

He pointed to the door. "Go."

"No. I already have it picked out, I already signed the sheet and my best friend is here. Do you know how rarely we get to see each other?"

Felicity gave her a side eye. By that she meant they no longer lived together, but that didn't mean they didn't see each other for breakfast every morning in the little breakfast nook of Queen Consolidated where Felicity had landed a job in the IT department or every other night for dinner or all day on Saturdays, which had been deemed Spa Day.

Oliver let out an agitated sigh, glaring a hole into Thea's face before he looked at Felicity. She desperately tried to ignore how her stomach bottomed out, especially when the ice in his eyes melted slightly, his face relaxing.

"Felicity," he said softly, offering her a warm smile. Well, a warmer smile than what he had just given his sister.

"Oliver," she replied, her voice coming out croaky. She cleared her throat. "Hi."

"Hi." He lingered for a second, just looking at her - Felicity fought the urge to cover her face because what if she had a pimple on her forehead? - when he said, "You're… are you getting a tattoo?"

"Yes," Felicity answered automatically before realizing what she said, just as Thea jerked to look at her too. "No! I mean no, no I'm not getting a tattoo. No."

"So no then?" Thea asked sarcastically and Felicity shot her a look.

"They're just so… permanent," she said lamely.

"Yes," Oliver said, looking at his sister. "They are. And you're not getting one."

"I'm 23, Ollie."

"Who in the hell actually agreed to this?" Oliver bit out just as Roy Harper came from the back. His model-chiseled face was covered in barely concealed excitement and joy, but it immediately melted away when he saw Oliver.

"Roy did," Thea said gleefully, dropping Felicity's arm and moving towards him.

The look Oliver sent Roy was enough to set the entire building on fire and Roy held his hands up in supplication. "She said you knew about this, boss."

"He does know about it," Thea supplied and she was already pushing him into the back before any of them could say another word. Felicity heard Thea say, "And thanks for telling me he was going to be here, by the way," and Roy's sarcastic response, "What am I, the princess' personal secretary?"

And then it was just her and Oliver.

Felicity wanted to rewind time and, instead of keeping herself planted in the same spot like a stupid gnome statue, follow Thea into the back. Instead she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, watching Oliver growl something under his breath before scrubbing his hands up his face and over his closely-sheared skull.

Not that she noticed things like that. Or the way the sweater he wore did a great job - and when she said great, she meant _great_ job - of accenting his arms and the V-neck collar looked like it had been specifically designed for this man's neck and shoulders. What an amazing thing the V-neck collar was, it was like an arrow highlighting everything good and pointing down to…

"Felicity?"

"What? Nothing!" Felicity's eyes flew to Oliver's face and she saw that stupid smile on his face again, which meant he'd caught her staring. Her face was on fire. Somehow her face was always on fire around him. She bit her lips and gave him a tight smile. "Hi."

"Hi," he said. The smile turned into a full-blown grin for a split second, leaving her slightly dazzled - honestly, who was dazzled by something as ridiculous as teeth? - before he pointed over his shoulder. "You can go back there, if you want."

"Oh, okay, good." She didn't move and that dumb smile didn't budge an inch on his face. "I'll just go… there. Then."

"Okay."

"Okay. Then."

Felicity made a wide berth around him, eyes averted, putting this down as her fourth wonderfully awkward Oliver Queen encounter. Hopefully it would be a decade before she added a fifth one.

* * *

The flower Thea was getting was wonderfully small and tasteful, but that didn't mean the tattoo was going very quickly.

Roy was taking his sweet freaking time, chit-chatting and giggling and being so cutesy-cute that Felicity had to step away. It was an amazing feat on his part considering the object of his infatuation's brother was literally three feet away from him, perfecting his dagger stare on the back of Roy's head.

And her needing to escape had nothing to do with the fact that when she glanced at Oliver, his eyes also happened to be on her at the same time.

Hello, butterflies, get the hell out.

Felicity wondered when she had gained the ability to actually feel someone's eyes on her. This was the super-aware phase of the crush - she had spent some time thinking on it. She had an overly-developed awareness of Oliver Queen, and thus she continued to convince herself he shared the same awareness.

She could only imagine what he was thinking. Maybe he was upset with he for letting Thea come here, maybe she really did have a pimple on her forehead that had grown an arm and was waving at him, maybe her glasses were doing the slightly crooked thing they had a tendency to do for which she had grown a wicked complex about since her ex-boyfriend had mentioned it.

Whoever decided on the word "crush" had been wicked accurate.

Felicity wandered around.

It was late, Sin having gone home after their last customer had left, leaving something of the rock music genre playing on low volume in the background. The shop was big, bigger than it looked from the outside; it had several separate bays, each covered in drawings and sketches that were specific to each artist. It was impressive, from a creative point of view, and she had to marvel at the skill it took to draw with needles on someone's skin.

Honestly, it was like magic.

"Magic, huh?"

Felicity yelped, spinning around, hand plastered to her chest to see Oliver standing right at her back. His hands were in his pant pockets, making his biceps do a ridiculously attractive bulging thing, and he was leaning around her to see what she was looking at. She didn't realize she had painted herself into one of the corner bays where she had been staring at a selection of creepy troll drawings until she saw she had no exits except for the one behind Oliver.

Oliver had always been huge in that endearing man way of his, but now he really seemed to take up all the available space around her, in the room, in the building, in the city, in the freaking air molecules…

"Sorry. I didn't meant to scare you."

"No, it's okay, I was just…" Felicity looked at the trolls. "Admiring."

Oliver hummed noncommittally. "Those are Sebastian's."

"Oh," Felicity said, nodding like she knew exactly who Sebastian was and exactly why he had chosen to draw the creepiest trolls ever.

"Were you thinking of getting one?" Oliver asked, his voice low and muted and Felicity shook her head.

"No. Well, yes, I was _thinking_ about it, but thinking about it and actually doing it are two very different things." _Sort of like wondering how warm your hands are._ Felicity shut her mind down before she accidentally said anything out loud. Again.

Subject change.

"Do you have any?" she asked. "Tattoos?"

That was an honest question. She thought it was sort of assumed that when you invested your entire life into the art of tattooing other people, you sort of shared the same desire to have some yourself.

"A few."

"Oh?" Felicity specifically didn't look at him, staring at a half-naked mermaid. "Where?"

He paused and she looked back at him. A look she had never seen on his face before flitted over his features. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, you're fine," Oliver said. His voice said otherwise, but there was no edge to it. "On my back and shoulders."

"Oh, I didn't know that. I've never seen them. Not that I would have seen them, because that would mean I would have to see you shirtless, which I haven't. I don't even know where I'd go to see you shirtless - not that I would do that, I mean, go out of my way to find a way to see you shirtless. Not that you aren't worthy of seeing shirtless, I'm really, really sure you are, but that's kind of stalkery, right, and I'm not stalkery… and I am babbling about stalking you to see you shirtless, which I am going to stop in three, two, one…"

Oliver chuckled, and she was struck by the way the sound came out. He wasn't embarrassed by her or annoyed with her; if she was willing to go so far, she would say he sounded… charmed.

Which was ridiculous.

"Where would you get it?"

"What?"

"A tattoo."

"Oh. Um… well, I thought about my…" Felicity involuntarily touched the very space she had thought about getting it - her left hipbone - and Oliver's eyes followed her hand.

Her heart leapt into her throat. His eyes on her felt like a caress that was way too intimate and she was pretty sure she was imagining things when she saw his eyes flare, something dark crossing his face before it disappeared.

She swallowed. "My hip."

Oliver hummed again, and Felicity's traitorous mind let her eyes drop to his mouth - he had amazing lips, she could only imagine how they would feel against hers, how they would feel against her skin, pressing kisses, his tongue caressing the very spot she touched before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and started tugging them down…

Felicity forced herself to meet his eyes again, her face flushing at her thoughts, to find him staring at her.

The air was no longer air.

It was something tangible and really hard to inhale as they just looked at each other.

"You know… I could still put something… there." He rolled his eyes at the stilted sentence and it was her turn to feel charmed. She raised her eyebrows in question and he nodded to the bay in the farthest corner - his. "I have special pens I use for practice."

What he was saying caught up to her and Felicity had to wonder how she didn't just choke on her heart shoving itself up her chest. He wanted to… draw. On her.

"Oh."

"They're like permanent markers. It'll last for a few days, but it will wash off. So you can see what it's like."

"You mean like… you'll draw something on me?"

"If you want."

She wanted to say yes. She really wanted to say yes, because the thought of him being any closer than he already was was a heady, heady thought. So much so that Felicity's eyes flickered shut and she swallowed audibly.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to," Oliver replied softly, and everything inside Felicity deflated. He held his hand out for hers, and just as quickly all of her organs came back with a vengeance, her heart the worst of them all as she struggled to take a breath. "Come on."

Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was moving and then it was in his. He pulled her along with him, the sound of Roy and Thea fading even more until there was nothing but the faint sound of buzzing and the low music coming from a speaker in the corner.

The lights weren't dimmer, but Felicity felt like they were when he asked her to take her coat off, his fingers staying interlaced with hers for a second longer than necessary before he dropped them.

He pulled out some trays and removed a variety of weird looking pens. "What were you looking at getting?"

His voice was doing the thing. It was a thing, she was sure it was a thing. She shook her head to reorient herself. "Uh, I hadn't really thought about it, actually."

"Well, since this isn't very permanent, you can pick anything you want."

"Anything?"

Oliver smiled at her, a real smile, and her heart actually fluttered. "Anything."

"Um… okay, well." She looked around to avoid looking at him, but she saw nothing. She couldn't see _anything_ around her - all her senses were focused on him. She knew she was seeing things, logically, but she wasn't actually seeing them. It was like when she was reading, but her brain was fifty miles away, and she wasn't processing anything.

She picked the first thing that popped into her head. "How about an arrow?"

Oliver's eyes met hers, looking darker than they had a minute ago, and she bit her lip. His eyes dropped down to her mouth and she shivered, fighting the urge to step back and run away.

She had to be dreaming. This wasn't real.

Oliver cleared his throat.

"Okay," he said, touching her elbow and directing her to a tall table. "Hop up."

She eyed the leather-covered table. "Hop up?"

"You want it on your hip, right?" he asked, the words coming out gritty and she wanted to say, 'Nope, my arm is fine!'

Instead she nodded, and he nodded to the table. "Up."

She hopped up, laying down awkwardly. She had to readjust her ponytail and shifted her t-shirt so it wasn't crinkled painfully beneath her. He must have sensed she was nervous because he started talking. "Normally I'd have the table covered in plastic wrap, and I'd be wearing gloves to protect you from any cross-contamination and infection." Oliver pulled up a stool and sat down, rolling it closer to her. "Since this is just a drawing, none of that is really necessary."

"Well, that's good."

She wondered if it was actually possible to _hear_ someone smile. "So… hip?"

Felicity nodded. "Yep. Hip."

He touched her waist through her shirt, above her jeans, and she inhaled sharply. "Here?" he asked, his voice low.

For a very long time, she would look back on this very moment and wonder what had changed. It was like something possessed her for a split second and in that moment, changed the entire course of her life. She shook her head in response, clasping his hand - ignoring the fact that his hands were very, very warm and they felt very, very good against her cold fingers - and pushing it down until his were pressed to the tip of her pelvic bone.

It wasn't something Felicity Smoak would have done. Not at all.

"Here."

"Okay." His fingers involuntarily closed around hers. "You'll need to… unbutton."

"What? Oh," Felicity said, face flaming back to life. She hadn't thought about that. She paused, mouth frozen open before she moved.

She lifted her shirt and unbuttoned her jeans.

Dear god, she was unbuttoning her jeans in front of Oliver Queen… and he was staring at the pens like they were the answer to all of life's problems.

Felicity quickly unzipped and pushed the jeans to the side.

"Here," Oliver said, and then he used those very warm hands to brush hers out of the way and fold her jeans in for her, tucking them into her bright orange panties - why had she worn _orange_ panties? - exposing the spot she had pointed. She took a stuttering breath when his fingers lingered on her skin for a second, brushing against her pelvis, and something suddenly clicked in her head when she realized where his fingers were and how close.

Heat erupted in her core, and she let out a short breathy gasp, biting her lip until it stung.

So not what this was about, brain, so not what this was about.

She didn't realize he had stopped touching her until he said, "This will be a little cold," and she jumped when a wet paper towel wiped the skin clean.

"Oh, very cold," she said, her voice cracking and Oliver chuckled.

"Sorry."

She didn't trust herself to say another dang thing. Instead she closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax. He dried the spot off, his movements confident and at ease. Well, bravo for him that he was so comfortable right then, maybe he should give her some lessons in how to remain calm in a situation like this. Because right then? She was not calm.

"Ready?"

"Uh-huh."

His hands were so warm - she could not get the image of his hands pushing her pants down out of her head - and they were very calloused she noticed, when he leaned forward, one hand covering her hip while the other started to draw. Felicity waited for a sharp pen to prick her, but it was nothing like that; it felt like a marker, just like he had said, and it glided across her skin smoothly.

She let out a little laugh after he finished the first line.

"You okay up there?" he asked her with a smile.

"It tickles," she said.

He chuckled, and then all that was left was Oliver touching her, drawing on her.

After a few minutes the tension slid right out of her body and she let herself be lulled into a gentle state where nothing existed but his even breathing, his sure fingers holding her still, the gentle touch of the pen. What he was drawing wasn't big or outrageous, but it felt intricate. She sighed once, her body relaxing further into the table, and he paused for a second before continuing. He switched pens twice, adding a few things here and there before he was done.

He blew on the drawing and she let out a soft, "Oh," as goose bumps erupted across her stomach.

"All done," he said gruffly, capping the open pen.

This was the moment she got up and went to see what he had drawn on her, to see what she would have to look forward to for the next few days - although he could draw any damn thing he wanted to and she would still love it because Oliver had done it, because holy crap, Oliver had just drawn on her - but neither of them moved.

One hand was still on her hip, and his other hand gently rested across her stomach - and god, if her heart hadn't stuttered before, it was definitely past racing now - his thumb rubbing across the drawing. Every single nerve he touched was a direct line to her center and a wave of heat trampled through her abdomen.

"It's dry," he said softly, his thumb rubbing over it again and she inhaled quickly, waiting for something else… but instead Oliver sighed so quietly she barely heard it and then his hands were gone.

Disappointment whipped through her so fast and strong it took her breath away.

"Here," he said, offering his hand and she grasped it, letting him pull her up. His other hand landed on her back to steady her.

"Thanks," she said, looking up at him.

When their eyes met, electricity sizzled the air. He was so close, he was right there, and he wasn't moving, and how could her lungs simultaneously feel like they were full of concrete and full of so much air at the same time it was making her dizzy? His hand on her back slid up.

"Felicity," he whispered, spreading her name out so he hit each syllable.

"Yeah?" she whispered back, stupidly. He grinned, barely shaking his head and squeezed her hand in his.

She didn't know how her other hand had found its way to his chest, but she went with it; heck, she went with all of it even though the intensity surging between them was borderline too much. How could he be everywhere at the same time? Surrounding her, embracing her - it was like all those moments she had fought so hard to avoid, only this was about a hundred times more powerful.

She grasped the sweater she had admired so much into a tight fist.

She wanted to kiss him. She really, really wanted to. She had thought about it more than she should have, more than she wanted to admit to. But this was Oliver Queen - he didn't kiss girls like her.

Felicity opened her mouth to say just that when his lips slanted over hers, the kiss so soft and gentle it hurt her chest.

When romance novels describe how time stops when you kiss that special someone, Felicity always rolled her eyes. It was actually why she stopped reading them, it was illogical.

She was an idiot.

Oliver groaned, pulling her in closer and she let out a strangled sound of surrender, their clasped fingers holding on to each other as tightly as they dared. He yanked her towards him, a deep growling sound coming from his chest that she felt reverberate through hers, sending another wave of heat soaring straight for her core as their lips moved against each other. His hand snuck up to the back of her neck, cupping it, angling her head so he could go deeper and she moaned against him, pressing her chest closer to his, trying to mold her body to him.

He felt amazing. He felt more than amazing. He was hard and soft at the same time, rough and gentle, powerful and calm.

She was kissing Oliver. He was kissing her. He was really kissing her, like she was a glass of water and he hadn't had any in days. No, longer than that.

The kiss became harder, his movements harsher and uncoordinated in their rush to bring her closer to him and she went with him willingly, gripping the back of his neck, pulling herself closer.

He moaned, his hand moving up into her hair, dislodging her ponytail. His thumb brushed the shell of her ear and she whimpered as a shiver slithered down her spine.

"Oliver?"

The sound of Roy's voice popped the bubble and they broke apart at the same time.

They both panted, staring at the other, when Thea followed suit, "Felicity? Where'd you go?"

"Oh," Felicity breathed, realizing just where she was and who she was with and holy god, she was kissing her best friend's brother.

She pulled back just as he did, and she saw his face shutter up, going blank on her as he stepped back, giving her room to hop off the table. She didn't have time to think about what had just happened or why he was looking at her like that when she quickly readjusted her pants - she had been kissing Oliver Queen with _her pants undone_, what had her life just become? - when Roy appeared.

His eyebrows shot up - Oliver's lips were bruised and puffy and she could only imagine what his stubble had done to her face besides feeling really, really good while it had been happening - and the blush was back, but he didn't say anything when Oliver sent him a death glare.

"Hey, man, Diggle's here," he said, his voice way more serious than the current situation afforded.

"Yeah, alright," Oliver said. "I'll be right there."

"Okay," Roy said, a glib smile tugging at his lips before he disappeared, hopefully to intercept Thea.

Oliver turned, quickly cleaning up the space with short, efficient movements. Felicity tugged her shirt back into place, forgetting that he had just drawn an arrow on her in what had to be the most erotic thing to happen to her, ever.

And that kiss.

"I have to go," Oliver said, handing her her jacket.

"Okay."

He hesitated. "Can I…"

Felicity looked up at him. "Yes," she answered before he could continue and he laughed.

"Oliver, let's go!" a voice she didn't recognize shouted from the front and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm coming!" he shouted back.

Oliver grabbed her hand, giving it a quick squeeze, and instead of finishing his question, he pulled her in for a short but way intense kiss that had her toes tingling. He pulled back, leaving both of them breathless, his fingers lacing with hers.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long while," he said with a small, almost sad smile, and her heart stuttered. His eyes sparkled with emotions she couldn't even try to name; he definitely didn't look like he regretted anything, which was good, but there was a darkness she couldn't grasp.

Who was Oliver Queen, and what was he doing to her?

He traced a finger across her cheek, pushing her glasses further up her nose before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

And then he was gone.

She left the shop in a daze, Thea smiling knowingly when she saw Felicity's rumpled state but thankfully didn't push it. She chatted happily about her new tattoo, but mostly about Roy, and Felicity vaguely remembered her going into explicit detail about Roy's cheekbones.

Felicity barely remembered getting back to her apartment, barely remembered removing her clothes. The next thing she was aware of was being in her bathroom, touching her lips in amazement, wondering what had happened, how it had happened, and what happened next.

And when she looked in the mirror, she saw what he had drawn on her.

It was a delicate arrow, with a detailed shaft that ended in an elegant curl, interlaced with intricate detail and an arrowhead pointing up towards her heart.

It was green.

She didn't think about all the questions she still had about him, she didn't think about where he had run off to that night. She would think about all that later. Much, much later.

Until then…

Her finger traced the drawing.

Her arrow.

**The End**


	2. Too Early

**Too Early**

By Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: M  
Author's Notes: Part of my You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream Olicity ficlet collection.

Summary: "She was trying. He could tell she was trying, but she wasn't doing a very good job. Her idea of whisper-singing was not the same as, well, whispering."

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The response to the last installment _blew me away_. Every single kudos, comment, favorite, follow, etc. makes my world, thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy what I have in store for these two, I have a lot of short stories planned (including an eventual sequel to "Arrow").

Btw, I upped this collection's rating to Mature because this one got away from me - it is literally impossible for me to not write smut somewhere. I'm steering away from Explicit because sex is not the motivation for any of these stories, but I don't hold back when the time comes (and I still held back). If you think it's past Mature? Please let me know!

I am dust2dust34 on Tumblr, for those who wondered, and if you have any ideas or prompts you'd like me to tackle, I will gladly consider them. My muse is pretty fickle, I can't make guarantees - if I can't work something into a stand-alone story, I'll definitely save it for future use.

* * *

She was trying. He could tell she was trying, but she wasn't doing a very good job. Her idea of whisper-singing was not the same as, well, whispering.

"Meet me where your mind won't kiss me… Flick your eyes and mine and then hit me…"

He couldn't help himself.

He smiled.

"Hit me with your eyes so sweetly."

The smile morphed into a full-blown grin.

They had been seeing each other for well over a year now, this stupid crap shouldn't make him smile as much as it did. It was both the most endearing and most annoying power that she held over him - he should be annoyed with her, getting up and telling her to one, get out of the shower and back into bed, two, get the hell out of the shower and back into bed, and three, please stop singing until he'd had at least two cups of coffee.

But he wasn't. God help him, he was happy. He wanted her to keep going, to never stop, to always wake up on the south end of no sleep and be happy enough to get up and shower and _sing while doing it._

That she was happy enough to do it at all made him groan at the sappy warmth filling his chest. He loved her so much it was a miracle his heart didn't climb right out of his chest and shove itself into her hands like a grotesque pocket sleeve.

"Oh, you know, you know, you know, that yes, I love…"

Her voice floated out to meet him through the closed bathroom door, still evident over the rush of water colliding with porcelain. He heard the gentle squeak of her foot as she moved, the tiny whistle from her shampoo bottle followed by a thud when she set it down and the water hitting the walls at different angles when she moved.

She was dancing.

In the shower.

"I mean I'd love to get to know you…"

It had been a long night. There was a new drug on the streets, some new players starting a weird anarchist movement in the Glades somewhere and Digg had told them Argus was talking about new reports of a compromised transport near Starling that was - or had been - full of weapons that shot barbs full of poison.

It had been a night of frustration and anger, one of the rare ones where the full scope of his city and his inability to keep it all fully protected caught up with him.

They hadn't gone to bed less than three hours ago, and they had seriously talked about not going into work today, but there she was, up at - he arched his head to squint blearily at the alarm clock – 6:36 in the damn morning.

"Do you ever wonder… No, no, no, no, you girls never know. Oh no, you girls'll never know…"

She continued through the chorus, and Oliver was rolling out of bed before he could think about it. He followed her voice, shoving his boxers down his hips, stepping out of them when he reached the bathroom. He scrubbed his face, blinking himself more awake, lips tugging up in another smile as she continued singing to herself.

He opened the door silently, moving into the steamy room before too much cold air could come with him and closed it behind him. He leaned back against it, just listening to her, letting her light voice erase the night they had had.

The tenseness in his shoulders and lack of rest coupled with his "self-masochistic grumpy anger," as Felicity called it, slipped away, the shower steam and her voice wrapping around him.

The only reason he'd made it this far and this long was because of her - because of her support on the team, absolutely, but more because of this very thing right here. She was a literal ray of sunlight in his life, and she loved _him_. For some insane, almost unfathomable reason, she had chosen him. She had gifted him with her heart and her love and because of that, his entire world had blossomed.

She was the reason he was able to get up in the morning and still have hope. She was the reason he kept going without collapsing under the weight of expectation and insanity. She helped him shoulder the immense burden of the city that he carried everywhere he went, that they all shared in equal part, but if anyone were to sit down and ask him, he would say she carried the most, because she helped him with his part with as much vehemence as she did her own.

She was his compass, the light that guided him, that reminded him that he could do this after all, that he wasn't going to fail.

The reason for his continued existence was singing and dancing in the shower, belting out lyrics in not-very-quiet whispers and he smiled.

God, he loved her.

"You girls never know, oh no, you girls'll never know, no, you girls never know, how you make a boy feeeeelll…"

Oliver crept up to the shower, tugging back the curtain just enough to peek in on her.

Her eyes were closed as she sang. She was in the middle of rinsing shampoo from her hair, suds cascading down her body in heavy rivulets, slipping between her breasts and down her stomach, rushing across her hips and down her thighs. Oliver licked his lips, watching her with hooded eyes as she moved, dancing in time with the music only she could hear.

Her body swayed. She rinsed her hair in rhythm with her singing, her breasts bouncing and hips ticking from side to side…

He had never lacked for sex drive. He liked sex - a lot - and he was always ready to go whenever the opportunity arose. It was the guiding force in his life and how he had lived it before the Gambit had gone down, and he definitely hadn't lacked for partners when he'd come back.

That is, until Felicity.

If he'd thought he'd been insatiable before, he was very, very wrong.

Everything about her spoke to him on a cellular level - they were magnets, and he was completely unable - and unwilling - to ignore it. She just had to look at him in that certain way that was reserved for him and him alone, or blush that bright red that left her skin pink for a few minutes after, reminding him just how far that blush went down.

He couldn't stand going longer than a day without having her in some way - whether that was her bent over her desk in the foundry, or on the washing machine when she was wandering around looking for a specific blouse in only a skirt and bra, or when he'd slipped his hand up said skirt and had his fingers buried inside her against the wall of the executive elevator at QC. He still had yet to live that down because she'd nearly had a panic attack afterwards wondering if she'd cut off those cameras going to the downstairs desk or not, to which he always cheekily replied she hadn't cared much at the time.

And then glared at him, and she blushed, and it started all over.

He always wanted her.

And they'd been too tired to do anything when they'd got home a few hours ago.

"You girls never know, oh no, you girls'll never know, no you girls never know…"

She turned and rinsed her face, still whispering the lyrics into the water, giving him a very generous view of her ample ass.

"How you make a boy feel… how you make a boy…"

And then she did a little shimmy, and he was done for.

Oliver pulled the curtain back and said, his voice rough with lack of sleep and early-morning arousal, "I think I can lend my opinion on that."

A startled squeak erupted from her as she spun to face him with wide eyes - she'd collapsed right into bed last night, barely removing any clothes or makeup, and there were black mascara smudges still all around her eyes that made her look sexier than hell.

Her hand flew to her chest, and she nearly slipped face-first into the wall.

Oliver's arm around her waist caught her before she went anywhere and she scrambled against him for purchase.

"Oh my god, you scared me," she breathed.

"Sorry," he rumbled gruffly, pulling her flush against him. She was warm and slick and he wrapped his arms around her. He hummed her name, rubbing against her like he was a damn cat. The combination of the overexertion last night, an entire lack of sleep, and being in the warm shower with the woman he loved was having a very lazing effect on him.

On his mind at least. Other parts of him were very awake.

She held onto his shoulders as he bent down to press his face to the crook of her neck.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" His hips moved against her of their own volition and she let out an involuntary giggle. "Well _somebody_ is definitely awake."

"Mmm," he moaned against her. "You smell good."

She chuckled, and he shook his head, wondering how she was so damn perky.

He slipped one hand down to curve around her ass, kneading it as he pulled her closer, making her gasp.

"Too early," he mumbled into her neck.

"Yes, it is," she said, nodding in agreement. "Which is why I…"

Her words faded away when his hand continued moving, sliding down her thigh until he hooked her knee and lifted it so it was hitched over his hip, leaving her open to him. She gave him a tremulous breath, her nails digging into his neck muscles as she lifted herself onto her toes to match his height. He responded by rubbing his beard against the delicate skin of her neck and she arched her head back to give him more access, mewling under his ministrations, making every inch of him tighten in anticipation.

Oliver picked her up and pushed her against the wall.

"Oooh, cold," she gasped and he grunted another apology, his mind growing fuzzier and incapable of thinking of anything past the fact that she was in his arms, warm and alive and the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, eager and open for him to do anything he wanted to her, and everything was right with the world for these few minutes.

Oliver slid her higher up the wall, water beating against their sides, and her legs wrapped around his waist. He leaned forward, nuzzling his face between her breasts and she pulled her legs tighter, pulling him closer to her as she pressed her face to the crown of his head. His erection slid in the wetness between her legs, gliding across her center, making her hips jerk forward with a sharp moan.

He didn't waste a second, finding her entrance and he pressed into her, sliding her down the wall simultaneously. Felicity's mouth hung open in a breathy gasp, and he leaned forward, his lips dancing across her neck, his nose ghosting over her pulse point.

She moved to find his lips the same time he did.

The kiss was sloppy and disjointed and perfect.

Keeping her anchored to the wall, Oliver hooked his arms under her legs, pressing them up so she was cradled between him and the cold tile. The new angle had them both gasping as he pulled out slowly, making her whine, before thrusting in to the hilt.

"Felicity," Oliver hissed through clenched teeth, and she scraped her nails across his scalp. He smashed his lips against hers again, pulling out and thrusting back in with ardor. She moaned and broke the kiss to gasp for air when he angled his hips to hit her clit, rubbing against her in short, hard circles, her silken walls clamping around him. He groaned her name, moving faster.

"Oh god," she gasped, her fingers digging into him painfully as he pushed her further, the only thing that existed in his world being her, pleasing her, only her. "Oliver, Oliver, don't… don't stop…"

Oliver pressed one leg higher, a choked sound escaping her throat, and his fingers found one of her nipples. His thumb brushed across the hard nubbin. And then he pinched it.

She came apart in his arms, coming with a loud cry that echoed through the small bathroom. It melted into a long moan as she pulled him closer, cradling him to her.

Oliver pressed his forehead to hers, going willingly into her arms, his hips moving faster, chasing his own end, and it came on him without warning, a hot tingling in the base of his spine that exploded through him with a raspy shout of her name.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he felt the first spark of awareness.

He was suddenly very aware that they were still in the shower, and that the water hitting the porcelain was very loud. It was still warm, crashing against his side unpleasantly, his skin feeling way too sensitive. He rested on her shoulder, his face turned into her neck, Felicity's fingers carding through his hair.

He still had her pushed up against the wall where she was making tiny noises of bliss.

Oliver mumbled something unintelligible.

"Mmm, morning," Felicity whispered, pressing her face to his temple and he sighed, not moving.

"Too early," he grumbled, his eyes sliding shut. He was exhausted, but he was fairly certain he could hold her just like this, pressed against the wall with her legs hiked over his arms, still buried inside her, and be perfectly content.

Felicity gave him a, "Mmhmm," in response.

"Can we go back to bed?" he asked, pressing his lips up until he found her earlobe, which he took between his teeth. She gasped his name, and her walls clamped down around his half-hard cock, making him groan, and he pressed her further into the wall, trying to get closer to her.

"Yes. Bed. Bed is good. I'm a very big advocate of bed and all the wonderful things that come with it."

Oliver grunted something resembling words again and picked her up, turning the water off.

They didn't make it to work that day.

The End

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Lyrics are No You Girls by Franz Ferdinand. It was on Spotify while I was showering the other day, sparking this little thing - although I unfortunately didn't get the naked Oliver part. Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	3. Stay With Me

**Stay With Me**

By Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: M  
Author's Notes: Part of my You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream Olicity ficlet collection. This was another one that got long on me, they all won't be this ridiculously long.

Summary: It's 2046 and today is her birthday.

* * *

This was another one that got long on me, they all won't be this ridiculously long.

I'm officially working on a complete multi-chapter story for the tattoo ficlet! I was going to do snippets from the plot idea I had, but I didn't think that would be satisfactory enough. It will be called "Dotted Lines." Once I have a few more chapters drafted and edited, I'll start posting it.

In the meantime, I have a few more ficlets for this collection that I'll be posting as they get edited. Thank you for the kudos, reviews, favorites and follows, everyone!

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"Where in the hell have you been?"

The voice thundered from the corner of the little shop, making every single person inside stop dead in their tracks. It looked like someone had pressed the Pause button… or everyone had just been caught shoving stolen coffee beans in their pants.

A sea of heads immediately glanced at the tiny woman the voice had come out of - and it _was_ a shocking sound, because she was a waif of a thing, tall and willowy with long silver hair to match, she didn't seem to have enough neck to hold such an impressive voice box - before turning to see who the ire was aimed at.

Felicity Queen stopped dead in her tracks.

The door swished closed behind her with the telltale tinkle of the bell over the door and a frosty gust of wind that swooped across her bare legs and up her skirt, making her clench her legs together in a shiver. She didn't move save to blink snow out of her eyes, flinching when a trickle of melted ice slipped from her hat onto her bare neck.

Sharon, her favorite barista and cranky surrogate mother - as Oliver had lovingly started to call her during their first vacation in Aspen - dropped the cup of coffee she was working on and walked out from behind the coffee bar.

Her "kids" Kelcy and Max barely batted an eye. Max immediately stepped up to finish the coffee, barely glancing at the writing on the cup, having an almost preternatural understanding of where Sharon had left off while Kelcy smoothly took the order for the next person in line, not a single ounce of worry on her face despite the line being nearly out the door.

It was classic Sharon; it had been for all of the twelve years Felicity had been coming to The Pump and Grind.

She'd gotten closer to the wizened old woman when she and Oliver had started coming to Colorado more often, spending more and more time in the small condo he and Thea had inherited from some long lost cousin of Robert's - really, Felicity had teased, two of the richest people in the world were the ones who got random huge generous gifts from long-lost relatives? Sharon looked the exact same as she did then. Under the words 'freakish' and 'energy' in the dictionary, her picture was right there; she had to be going on 90 now, but she moved and acted like she was 25. Felicity was fairly certain the woman was going to outlive everyone.

The smile on Sharon's face was blinding as she stepped up and cupped Felicity's face. "Happy birthday, my beautiful chinchilla."

"You are the only person I let get away comparing me to a cutesy rat," Felicity said. Sharon let out her signature hoot of laughter.

"They aren't rats, goodness, don't you pay attention to anything I say?" Sharon replied before giving her a stern look, shaking her face as she spoke, "You were supposed to come in this morning."

Felicity smiled tiredly, her lips not used to the sensation. "I know. Investors teleconference. Madeline threatened my life."

Sharon tsked. "That's what daughters are for. Come on, come on, get inside where it's warm."

She wrapped an arm around Felicity's shoulders, towing her into the crowded shop, ever unmindful of the cold starting to melt on Felicity's jacket. The woman looked like a gust of wind would blow her away, but did she feel an ounce of cold? Ha. Whereas Felicity was left wondering why she hadn't at least worn tights. It wasn't supposed to snow, for one, and two, this was her favorite skirt - it was black with splashes of bold-colored surrealistic flowers. It was meant for the chic boots and bare skin she was sporting, which she was extremely excited to still be able to sport in the first place.

One thing the girls should be excited about was getting good leg genes.

The weather didn't agree though, as she had learned was often the case when the tail end of Spring made its way through the Rocky Mountains.

"Are you staying?"

"No, I can't. Just need my fix, I was up way too early."

"Big plans tonight? Are the girls in town?" Sharon asked, pushing Felicity up to the bar and stepping back behind it.

"No, no, I wouldn't let them."

Sharon made a disapproving ticking noise with her tongue as she started making Felicity's coffee.

The woman was a master business owner.

She had first bought the land in the early 80's and had stayed ahead of the coffee curve with her unique personality and even more unique coffee drinks. She was Starbucks before Starbucks was Starbucks - and amazingly stuck around when the custom coffee fad died out. She maintained the small-town charm with her business etiquette and refusing to make any 'foolish robot changes' to the shop. She was the only business in town that hadn't installed a computerized, well, anything. You could press a button and not have to talk to anyone for a decent cup of coffee a few blocks from her door, but that didn't mean jack to Sharon, or her profits - they hadn't seen a dent in decades.

Felicity could still only watch in abject wonder at how she and her team moved with each other - it was an intricate ballet; one person twisting this way while another turned that way and the other leaned over both of them to put syrup in a cup, all handling equal loads of the job.

"But they are coming in a few weeks though - together," Felicity added, watching Sharon's face brighten even more.

Donna Smoak was the epitome of a spoiling and crazed grandmother, and Sharon only added to the pile whenever Madeline and Emma came around. They'd made the official move to Aspen after the girls had both gone off to college - well, when Madeline had gone off to college. Emma had chosen a slightly more eclectic path, much to the chagrin of her father. If Sharon was Felicity's other crazy mom, she was definitely their daughters' crazy other grandmother.

"Oh good! You know I still have that necklace I found when I was visiting your mom - it's perfect for Emma, just perfect. So then, what's on the agenda for tonight? I better hear something more exciting than 'tech this and tech that and some red wine' because I'll have to boycott."

"Well," Felicity started, feeling bashful as she stared at her dark mocha nails.

"Ooh, I know that face," Kelcy interjected and Felicity blushed.

"I do actually have a date night planned."

Just saying the words perked her up, and this time when she smiled it felt good.

Very good.

"Oh goodness me, I can't remember the last time I went on a proper date," Sharon said wistfully. She handed Felicity her cup. Felicity immediately wrapped both hands around the warmth and took a sip as Sharon stage-whispered, "The last time my nethers saw any action was when people still had cords on their phones."

Felicity snorted into her coffee.

"Oh god, Sharon, I'm standing right here," Max moaned and Sharon let another loud hoot of laughter.

"Well good, that's very good, my lovely girl, I'm happy to hear that," Sharon said, leaning across the bar to grab Felicity's hand, squeezing it lovingly. "I want to hear all about it tomorrow."

* * *

The flicker of candlelight was the first thing she noticed when she paused at the top of the stairs.

Her heart suddenly felt way too big for her chest as she paused, thinking about what was waiting for her.

She gripped the scarred bannister, the sturdy wood reassuring under her palm. She touched it every single day, going up and down, up and down these steps, and this moment wasn't really any different than any other time before, but right now it was the strongest thing within reach and she siphoned some of its strength.

She was going to need it.

It had been over five years since she had seen him. Five long years… that she really didn't need to be remembering right now.

This was an important night, a special night, and she wasn't going to taint it with memories that were better left in the dark.

Felicity made her way down the steps. He must have heard her coming because she heard the metallic chink of a holder hitting the coffee table followed by the lighter he'd used to create the forest of candles he'd laid over almost every available surface.

She saw his large shadow on the wall before she saw him, and she gripped the bannister again, pausing, her lungs expelling every last inch of air in anticipation.

It had been so long, what if…

Felicity shut down the thought before it could grow, knowing she was about three seconds from talking herself out of this.

She had come this far. She was going to do this.

She stepped down the rest of the way.

And stopped breathing.

Her chest tightened, her nails digging into the wood under her hand while the other made half-moon marks in her palm as he moved to greet her.

He was even more beautiful than she remembered.

He was slightly more weathered, laugh lines more plentiful around his mouth and eyes, and there was a new spattering of silver in his hair that hadn't been there before. He still kept the stubble though, and when it caught the light the right way, she saw it hadn't changed at all.

"Hey," Oliver said, his voice soft - it was the voice he only used with her, the soft growly voice that never once ceased to make her heart pick up a little bit and her stomach clench.

She let out a silent laugh of incredulity; it had been so long since he'd used it.

It almost sounded foreign.

She swallowed past the burning lump in her throat, wanting to do the casual glance-around-like-it-was-any-other-day thing, but she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Hey," she finally replied, her voice cracking. "It's been a while."

He chuckled, a wide grin splitting his face. It was the smile that used to make her palms sweaty - and hey, it still did, she noticed, wiping her free hand against her side. Her arms and legs were oddly tingly, like all her nerves were hyperaware of the fact that he was _right there_.

Like her nerves really needed to tell her - she may be old, but she wasn't that old, her eyes still worked. How could the man still make her feel like they were just meeting, like everything was new and exciting, fresh and still untraveled … like she was just a giddy twenty-something and a seriously cute, mysterious man was in her office, telling her the stupidest lie she'd ever heard…

He nodded, pursing his lips in response to the brevity of her words.

"Yeah." His fingers moved in the familiar nervous tic of his, his forefinger rubbing against his thumb. "It has been."

There was more, she knew there was so much more that needed to be said, that she needed to say and needed to hear, but the words completely escaped her. If there wasn't talking, there should at least be moving - something being done - but neither of them did anything but stare at each other.

"I've missed you," he finally whispered, and the burning lump in her throat forced its way up, tears blurring her vision.

Felicity nodded briskly, licking her dry lips. "I miss you," she said, so softly she barely heard herself. "So much."

His face - bravely stoic and controlled - broke and he took two long strides towards her the same time she finally let go of the bannister, starting for him, and he was there to capture her, sweeping her up in his arms.

She let out a broken gasp, her arms wrapping around him when he lifted her off her feet and just held her.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply, making her shudder as his familiar scent washed over her in turn. His hair was the same, cut short, and she ran her nails across his scalp as she cradled him to her.

She pressed her lips to his temple, but once wasn't enough. She kissed him over and over, little pecks that were so small but so significant, and her breath hitched when his lips pressed to her neck, his stubble tickling her in ways it hadn't since when they'd first started making out like teenagers on her couch all those years ago.

That was so long ago, but it still felt like yesterday.

He'd seemingly come back from the dead, from his battle with Ra's Al Ghul, and with a new purpose in life - a new desire for life - but they hadn't been on the same page; she'd thought they'd never get in the same book, much less the same page of anything. It had taken them more than a year before the tension between them finally snapped.

And then she'd known what it was like to be able to kiss Oliver Queen whenever she wanted, to hold his hand, to smile when his fingers grazed her bare shoulders, to make out like lunatics for no reason other than they wanted to, to wake up next to him, to greet the world with a happy grin because the man she loved with all her being loved her back.

She choked out his name, her heart swelling, and he pulled back just enough to capture her lips with his.

Felicity felt like everything that had been broken inside her came together while at the same time it all shattered to pieces again.

He overwhelmed her - it was almost too much; it had been too long.

She moaned against him, holding on tighter.

He was familiar and new all at the same time; it had been so long, but they still remembered, remembered what the other felt like, how the other moved and acted and reacted. It was the confidence that came from spending years getting to know the other person in all the ways that they could; it wasn't something that just disappeared.

She felt his hand at her waist twisting her dress between his fingers, his other hand smoothed up her back until it delved into her hair, pressing her mouth closer to his.

The kiss was years of pent up frustration and longing and loss and pain all rolled into one and before Felicity knew what was happening, he stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the coffee table before his knees collided with the couch. She used his shoulders for leverage and hiked a leg over his hip, making a needy growl tremble through his chest, and he lowered her down to the cushions.

He broke away from her long enough to reach between them and press her dress out of the way before he draped his body over hers again, lips colliding, one hand cradling her cheek, the other sliding against her outer thigh, heat and need churning within her as his calloused fingers traced a tantalizing pattern, moving up until they reached her hip, hooking in the band of her panties.

Felicity keened, scraping her nails over his scalp. He groaned, his hips thrusting against her, pressing her deeper into the couch cushions and she wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring him to her.

She slid her hand under the collars of his sweater and t-shirt, her fingers roving over the scars across his upper back while his slipped underneath her, cupping her ass and pressing her harder against him. She gasped when the heavy bulge pressing against the seam of his jeans pressed directly against her center in perfectly placed circles that instantly had fire whipping through her veins.

It had been too long, too many years of nothing but the cold embrace of empty sheets, and Felicity whimpered when his hips moved faster, pushing the sudden need higher and higher…

She broke away, sucking in a harsh breath, gasping his name…

Oliver groaned and stopped, pulling back. She didn't let him go far, keeping her arms wrapped around him as she sucked in air, her chest hurting from having to catch up on her oxygen intake.

"What is it?" she breathed. She blinked up at him, their breathing harsh and uneven. His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration. Her hands came around to cup his face, one brushing up over his forehead in a caress while the other touched his bruised lips.

The effortless smile he gave her made her feel like she was floating.

He extracted his hand from underneath her - much to her rabid disappointment - and he hovered over her, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I had plans for tonight."

"Oh. Plans," Felicity said. "Well, plans are great, but this…" She hitched her legs higher and pressed herself against him. He groaned her name, his hips involuntarily thrusting to meet hers, making her gasp. "Is so much nicer."

"Plans," Oliver said through clenched teeth. "I had plans."

That didn't stop him from pressing his lips to hers again in a searing kiss, and she felt every inch of her ache with need when he hugged her closer.

And then with a concentrated force of will, he pulled himself back again and stood up, reaching down to pull her to her feet within the same breath.

He set her down, her dress falling back to proper levels.

"I had plans," he said, readjusting her dress straps. "To woo you."

"You don't need to woo me," she said, biting her bottom lip to keep a giggle at bay.

His grin was back and he shook his head minutely, his hands brushing over her shoulders reverently, down her arms and back up until he was cupping her face between his large hands.

"Yes," he said softly, leaning closer. "I do."

This kiss was the complete opposite of the desperation from a few minutes ago - it was gentle and tender, so full of love she felt it resonating in her bones.

If there was ever a doubt in her mind that he loved her, she knew that this right here completely erased it in the blink of an eye.

"It's your Pretty Woman fetish!"

* * *

"This is _not_ my fetish," he replied, unable to keep from smiling himself as he dipped a strawberry in the cream and held it up.

She giggled, shaking her head, unable to even pretend to look at it. "I can't believe you're doing this. You even got the champagne!"

"And I can't believe you're laughing at me."

"No," she said, shaking her head, her stomach hurting from laughing so hard as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm laughing with you."

"Oh, right," Oliver said thoughtfully, a tiny smile on his lips.

He suddenly leaned forward and smeared the cream-covered strawberry all over her cheek, making her yelp in surprise.

His tiny smile broke into an infectious grin and he laughed freely when she gave him an outraged look and swatted his arm, which he dodged perfectly.

"That was so uncalled for," she said, grabbing her napkin, wiping her face when he leaned over, batting her hand out of the way.

"Come here." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I'm…" His tongue snuck out to lick away the remnants of cream. "Sorry." He pressed his lips to hers.

She sighed, melting against him…

When he leaned over further, tilting his chair to get closer to her, she wrapped an arm around his neck, opening her mouth to his… and she dipped her finger in the bowl of cream and returned the favor, smearing it across his cheek and nose.

He froze, mouth hanging open, and she laughed so hard she snorted.

"You're ruining my date night," he said between chuckles and she tried to apologize, but couldn't get the word out.

Until he sucked her finger into his mouth to clean the cream off.

A rush of heat swept through her, hard and fast, and she nearly came apart at the seams when his tongue swirled around it, his eyes locked on hers.

* * *

She knew what he was doing.

And she had to admit… it was working.

He was recreating all their stupid first date moments.

From the botched first date - technically the second date, but they had stopped referring to the whole 'got bombed on their first date' thing the minute they decided to try again because they hadn't even gotten their drinks yet, it didn't count; the rules said so - where a romantic moment had been ruined because she couldn't stop giggling over strawberries and champagne he'd brought out, to when he'd come down with the flu.

All those late nights in that cold foundry had finally caught up with him. She'd already had it three times since she'd started working with him and had started to wonder if he was some genetic freak because he never got sick.

When she'd refused to leave him, it had led to a thrilling game of Scrabble.

And one day later, she'd gotten the flu. Again.

"You're letting me win."

Felicity smiled. "No, I am not."

"Yes, you are." He perused his letters. "You, Mrs. Queen, seem to think I'm an idiot."

She scoffed. "I do not."

Oliver snorted, waving at the board between them. "You've hacked into government agencies, hotwired bombs, and put a dancing panda on all the televisions in that Hong Kong airport to get Emma to stop crying when she was sick… and the best you're coming up with right now is 'yams.'"

"You just kicked my ass with 'cybernetics,' Mr. Queen, I think you're doing just fine."

"If I find out you're letting me win…"

She grinned at him coquettishly, cocking her head. "What? What will Mr. Scary Arrow do to little ol' me?"

He looked up at her under hooded eyes as he leaned over, placing more tiles on the board.

She shivered, his blue eyes darkening to a deep cobalt as he said in a throaty voice, "I'm sure I'll think of something."

* * *

Hot water sluiced across the dishes in the sink, rinsing the remnant food off. She set them in the other half of the sink to go into the dishwasher.

She heard him coming in behind her, carrying the last of the dishes from the dinner he'd cooked for them - the universe had been almost too kind when creating him because he could shoot arrows with alarming preciseness - with his eyes closed and riding a unicycle - and he could cook his amazing secret-recipe chili.

It wasn't just the chili - he always made it into a full five-course ordeal.

It was so good it rivaled the Green Arrow's archery abilities.

It was _that_ good.

Oliver hummed behind her, making her smile, setting the dirty dishes on the counter. She opened her mouth to tell him he better not just leave them there when he wrapped his arms around her waist, molding his back to her chest.

He anchored his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling his face into her neck. She felt him smile where he pressed against her, and she leaned back against him, closing her eyes.

Happiness was a gentle warm glow in her chest.

He peppered light kisses along her neck, ignoring the dishes, and she shivered.

"Those go in the dishwasher, you know," she said.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, leaning forward and turning the water off. He pressed a kiss just under her ear, and she inhaled sharply, a tremble falling down her spine. He pressed a chaste path across her jaw and down her neck, his fingers pushing the strap of her dress off her shoulder. "Later."

"It'll be like… concrete," she said unconvincingly and his lips followed the path of his fingers as he pushed her dress further down, the material hooking on her breast. His hand moved further down her hip, pulling her dress up and she reached behind her, gripping his thighs, clenching his jeans to pull him closer as she pressed her ass into him.

His hand around her waist yanked her closer, his fingers digging into her abdomen.

"It'll be hard to clean later," she continued, her voice breathless. "They should at least soak."

"I don't care," he growled, and he spun her, lifting her easily and setting her up on the sink, pressing himself between her open thighs. She groaned her acquiescence and wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing her feet to his ass as he dragged her off the edge of the counter, his hands shoving her dress up, pressing himself against her through her thin panties.

She moaned his name, her head falling back when he rubbed against her, his hands gripping her ass hard enough to leave bruises. His lips found her collarbone, dancing across it and over her shoulder. She whined his name again as he barely grazed her, leaving goose bumps in his wake as he dragged them up her neck, his teeth nipping at her chin.

She moaned again and turned to meet him, his mouth swallowing the rest of it as she opened for him.

He was a combination of spices, wine, strawberries and Oliver.

God, she had missed him.

He wrapped a hand around her hips, his other sliding up and into her hair. He loved her hair. His hands were always buried in it, mussing it to hell, playing with the strands, running his fingers through them. It never failed to make her shiver, especially when his large palm cupped her neck, his thumb dragging across her pulse point and she arched against him, seeking more.

"Bed?" he rasped against her lips and she shook her head.

"Too far."

He grunted in agreement and then picked her up, spinning them to the kitchen island. A plastic bowl and napkin dispenser clattered to the floor when he set her down roughly, but neither noticed. She reached down, yanking his shirt up, her fingers drifting across his flat stomach, still so well-defined after all these years. The thought of his skin touching hers, of being near him again, feeling those muscles twitch under her fingers, straining against her, had her body weeping with need and she whimpered, tugging his shirt up until he pulled back and ripped it off, throwing it away somewhere.

Their kisses were demanding - taking and giving in equal measure. He lifted her further up on the island with ease, shoving her dress up and she squeaked in shock when the cold countertop touched her naked thighs.

He released her lips, his hands pushing her dress up and over her head and she was left in nothing but her panties.

She shivered when the cool air touched her heated skin, and she looked at him from under hooded eyes, her mouth going dry at the dark blue reflecting back at her. When she shivered again, it had nothing to do with the cold granite.

"I missed you," he rasped and he wrapped his arms around her, leaning her back so the only thing holding her up were his arms. He kissed her neck, nipping, sending tiny shots of electricity sizzling across her skin. Felicity held him as his lips grazed across her collarbone, moving down. He teased her, his lips dragging over the sensitive skin of her breast.

"Please," she whimpered.

He hummed against her, the vibrations razing across her delicate skin and straight to her core. She cried out when he finally wrapped them around the pebbled nipple. His mouth was hot, a sharp contrast to the cold air, and she tried to move her hips against his, seeking friction, needing more, but he had her nailed to the countertop.

"Oliver, please," she moaned and his tongue flicked across her nipple before he pressed it to the roof of his mouth and she saw stars, heat erupting inside her in a rush, her mind going blank. She jerked when his hand was suddenly between her thighs, pressing her panties to the side and his fingers slipping through the wetness. He moaned his approval, and he thrust two fingers into her.

Felicity shuddered, her body clenching around him, her back arching for more. He moved so slowly it was painful, and she gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into the hard muscles, but he didn't relent.

She couldn't take anymore. She pulled his head up, sitting up and forcing him back.

The grin on his face at her eagerness made her blush, and she bit her lip. His eyes flared, his amusement melting back to naked heat before their lips crashed together.

She wasted no time, her hands slipping between them, fumbling with his belt and jeans. He helped, shoving them down and then he pushed her back down on the counter, his fingers already hooked in her panties and sliding them down. The counter was ice to her heated back as she lifted her hips to assist before reaching for him again.

He gripped her hips, sliding her closer to the edge, the head of his cock slipping against her slick entrance. She whimpered, need clamoring through her, hitching her legs higher around his waist as he slid his hands behind her, holding her steady.

He didn't move, his breathing harsh, but controlled as she held onto his shoulders.

With a pained sigh, he pressed into her slowly, so slowly she felt every single thing. Her body tightened around him in anticipation and he grunted her name, his forehead falling against hers.

He let out a strangled sound before thrusting home.

Home.

They were home.

"Felicity," he moaned, his forehead falling against her shoulder.

His lips were on her neck again, his arms wrapping around her, encasing her in his warmth. He enveloped her, pulling her as close as she could go, and they wrapped themselves around each other, before he started moving. He slid out so easily and thrust back in, and she moaned, pressing her face to his cheek as he did it again, so slow it was torture.

"Oliver," she whimpered, her breath dancing over his ear and she felt him shudder against her. "Please. I need you to…"

That was all it took. It had been too long, they had waited too long, and he thrust in full force. He slid one arm under one of her legs, and she cried out when he went deeper. His thrusts became harder, the island rocking from the force as the new angle slid across her clit, sending sparks of pleasure pulsating deep through her pelvis.

It lasted forever, but happened so quickly at the same time. The pleasure blossomed inside her, every stroke stoking the fire until it burned so hot everything around faded away, and the only thing that mattered was Oliver thrusting into her, pushing her higher and higher…

She came with a guttural gasp, his name falling from her lips; it echoed the sound of his skin slapping hers as his thrusts became harder, his fingers digging into her painfully, his muscles tightening under her hands until he followed suit, his back bowing as he emptied into her.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, both of them slumped over the counter, catching their breath, dazed and pleasurably numb.

Felicity was only vaguely aware of him pulling out of her after a minute, and she whimpered her disagreement. He chuckled lowly, leaning down to nuzzle her belly, his stubble tickling her before he pressed a kiss to her hip. He never stopped touching her as he reached for a towel, wetting it and cleaning her up.

She moaned her appreciation, lifting her leg lazily, her foot resting on his shoulder and Oliver smiled down at her, kissing the inside of her knee.

And then he was lifting her and carrying her back out to the living room, sated and warm and fuzzy, and he settled them in on the couch.

"Oliver," she sighed sleepily, pressing her back into his chest and huddled her closer.

The world was fading away, and she grappled to stay awake long enough, unwilling to let the night end.

"Hmm?"

"Love you," she murmured, digging her face into the hard bicep. He pulled the throw she kept on the couch over them, snuggling in against her, wrapping her up in a warm cocoon.

"I love you," he replied, pressing his nose to the back of her neck.

"Stay with me?" she asked. "Don't leave me again."

"I'll never leave you, Felicity," he said, the words soft... "Never."

"Stay with me," she whispered, wrapping her hands around the arm he had around her chest. He responded by wrapping both of his tighter around her.

"I'll always stay with you…"

"Stay with me…"

Darkness…

* * *

The world faded to black.

She was already crying before she could get the wraparound glasses off her face, choking back the hard sobs trying to escape.

Her hands shook so hard she could barely grip the damn things, and when the question flashed, she shoved the glasses off so hard they flew across the room, bouncing on the floor.

"_Repeat Simulation?"_

She tried to breathe, tried to relax her body, but the words were the only things she could see…

"_Repeat Simulation?"_

The bright red, matter-of-fact letters she herself had designed reminding her of everything she had lost…

Her body was tight with unshed tears, straining to keep the grief inside where it always lived - it hadn't dulled over the years, not like she was told it would. Time was supposed to heal everything, make the pain fade, make it easier to live with.

It didn't.

Because Oliver was still gone.

Five years. He had been gone for five years, stolen from her, and nothing could make it better.

A tear slid down her cheek, the salty liquid burning on her ice cold cheek. She reached up to wipe it away, scraping her cheeks…

She could still feel him. She stared at her hands for a heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his cheek under her palm, the heat of his body over hers as he surged into her, the strength of his arms cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the world, loving her like she was the only thing that mattered…

She touched her lips, her fingers trembling, but they weren't warm or used.

They were cold, dry and chapped.

She was alone.

When the sobs hit this time, she didn't stop them. They took over, wracking her body, painfully yanking on already exhausted muscles.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill that hadn't gone away since the moment they had found him in that warehouse, beaten so badly she had barely recognized him. He had been awake though, always so brave until the last even though his body had been shot through and abused.

The gangster Glasgow had put two and two together according to the timeline he'd had taped all over the warehouse walls - Oliver Queen was the Green Arrow.

She remembered stumbling over a toppled chair, falling to her knees at his side with a loud crack.

Oliver had reached for her, touching her cheek with blood-stained fingers, bloodshot blue eyes staring at her sightlessly…

He'd whispered her name…

And then he'd died two hours later from massive internal bleeding.

They'd found him too late. She'd been too late to save him, and now he was gone, forever.

Felicity had refused to leave him, and eventually Lyla had taken all the kids home… She'd spent over three hours staring at his lifeless body before John had forced her out of the hospital room.

When he'd told her it was over, she'd swung at him, nails leaving jagged scratches across his cheek.

"_You're wrong. You're wrong, he's not gone. He's not gone!"_

He was coming back.

He always came back.

He'd promised her.

But this time… this time he'd stayed gone.

The flat computer panel next to her bedroom door came to life, pulling her out of the memories, a low-tone beeping alerting her to an incoming phone call.

She didn't move to answer it, didn't bother to look to see who it was because she already knew.

John's voice came through the speaker. When her tired swollen eyes ticked over to the screen on the panel, she saw his face as he left her a message, looking withdrawn and tired. He'd aged gracefully, but anyone could see the toll life had taken on him from the deep bags under his eyes and the white peppered through his hair.

"Hey, Felicity… just checking in. Haven't heard from you in a while. Lyla keeps talking about having you and the girls over for dinner soon, and Sara's coming home with some new guy she met. You know I'll need my buffer here if I'm going to make it through _that_ so… let's make it happen, okay?"

He paused.

"I hope you're doing good. I heard Maddie's kicking ass and taking names at QC these days. I saw Emma a few weeks ago, she stopped in Starling on her way back from whatever pilgrimage thing she was doing in Alaska…"

She thought she heard a tremble in his breathing before he let out a heavy sigh.

"Anyway, I just wanted to… check on you.

"Happy birthday, Felicity."

The End

* * *

Inspired by the short film 'Stay With Me' starring Stephen Amell (which I only recently saw for the first time and it f'ed me up). And I'm sorry, the dark angstiness came on like a slap to the face.

Please let me know what you thought, reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	4. King and Queen

**King and Queen**

By Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: T  
Author's Notes: Part of my You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream Olicity ficlet collection. I've done research on the Bratva for a multi-chapter fic I'm working on aka I took great creative liberties.

Summary: Bratva AU. There was one with two lines. There was one with a plus sign. And then there was the one that said, "BABY!" like it was supposed to be the best thing in the world.

This is based on an edit I made for Tumblr, which is actually my profile picture at the moment. My muse followed the path the edit started in my mind…

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Felicity whispered.

She couldn't stop shaking. If she hadn't already been nauseous, the anxiety jangling up and down her nerves would be picking up the slack. Her hands were raw from wringing them together, and she'd already cut her palm a few times where her wedding ring had snagged.

If the area rug in her room wasn't on the upside of a couple hundred thousand dollars there would be a hole from all her pacing.

She needed to make a doctor's appointment. She needed to confirm that it was real, that she wasn't just freaking out, that her body wasn't having a freaky reaction to the birth control or that her body wasn't… wasn't…

She couldn't even _think_.

Felicity stopped, her lungs feeling twenty times smaller than they should. She had been seeing black spots for most of the afternoon, she should probably eat something, drink some water, _sit down_ for one second… but if she stopped moving, it was real.

She made a strangled noise, burying her face in her hands, finally stopping.

Was she really thinking about doing this?

Could she do it?

Felicity blinked, and stared blankly at the large painting that took up the wall between her closet and her bathroom.

Her mind was still in there, still with the five tests she had bought intermittently over the last week on various shopping trips, hidden in clothes or stuffed under bags of makeup, until she had what should be deemed enough to satisfy the very serious panic attack she'd been on the verge of since she'd missed her period.

She never missed her period.

Ever.

It was a pretty miraculous thing actually, how steady her period was. Her MIT roommate always complained about missing hers, being worried that this time was The Time, and blaming her course load for the stress it brought; Felicity had never had that problem. Her menstruation was like clockwork, hitting nearly the same morning hour every single time. It was comforting, in a bloody, womb-peeling sort of way.

It was something she could depend on, and finding anything consistent in her life had been as easy as finding a purple unicorn in a field of daisies.

But then…

It hadn't arrived.

To say she had panicked would be like saying she dyed her hair blonde. It was just a fact, and the urge to just to give into the wildly overwhelming urge to sit in a corner and_ scream_ until she had nothing left was so, so great.

She'd called the first one a false positive - that could happen, right?

The second one had made her chest start feeling really heavy, like someone was sitting on it.

The third one was she was calling negative, because the faint second line was faint enough to call it negative, and just because she damn well could.

The fourth one she'd thrown against the wall, the stick still wet with pee, leaving a wet smear that only made her want to cry. She'd wiped it away before it had a chance to dry; maybe if she got rid of that evidence this wouldn't be happening.

But then the fifth one's indicator came up, a glorified, "BABY!" in a very distinctive dark blue on the little screen… and it led to her sitting on the toilet and shoving her head between her knees because she _could not breathe_.

Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe… maybe the tests were broken, or someone had dosed her with hormones or maybe she was dreaming…

But the tightness in her chest and the roiling nausea in her stomach were saying something else and oh god, she shouldn't have eaten any dinner that night.

It had been quiet and tense without her filling the silence with her usual incessant rambling, and she'd systematically shoved everything that was put in front of her as fast as she could before excusing herself. It had been the longest fifteen minutes of her life, the silence in the room so heavy it felt like it was seeping into her lungs - into her freaking pores - cutting off any avenue of oxygen she could get.

She had just needed to get out of there before she threw up all over the table and her husband.

Felicity needed a plan. She had a plan for everything but _this._

Logic was telling her it was the smart thing to do, to double check, but something else - something else, whatever it was, something intuitive and instinctual and something that was assuredly _not_ _there_ a few days ago - was telling her she didn't need a doctor to confirm anything.

She knew.

She had known, which was why she had been freaking out since the second she'd woken up on Thursday morning sans Aunt Flo.

She was pregnant.

With a baby, a real baby that was completely innocent and would be another victim in the train wreck of a life that had been put into motion when her father had been a child himself.

How was that fair, that she was paying the price, that her child would be paying the price, living in a world full of danger and constant fear and nothing… nothing sane? Nothing_ normal_?

That was the life she was going to bring a child into? The life she was essentially sacrificing her child to?

"No," she whispered, shaking her head, her feet moving of their own volition as she started pacing again. At least when she was moving she didn't feel like every nerve in her body was being electrocuted. "No. I can't do that, I won't do that."

There was only one thing she and her new maternal instinct agreed on at the moment: she would rather die than bring a child into her world.

Bring it into her cold, emotionless, contract-based marriage, into the dark, ugly, brutal world of the Bratva, and into a world where the father's face was carved from stone with ice for eyes, which never thawed no matter how politely he managed to smile.

No. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen, this hadn't been part of her plan.

So what now?

A million and one options ran through her mind, from the unspeakable to the dangerous to the terrifying…

There really was only thing she could do: _run_.

Felicity's heart clenched when she thought about her mother and what would happen if Felicity disappeared. What about Donna? They had already used her against Felicity once - just thinking about that day when she'd come home to the men in her living room with the very large, very scary knife poised over her mother's wrist… There was no way in hell she was going to leave her mother to the wolves.

She could make them both new identities. It would be so easy, to put all that knowledge she'd gained in high school to good use - she just needed a few tools, a few things, and she could make that happen. She could siphon some cash from the Family and cash it out and they could run. They could hide. They could survive.

They _would_ survive.

"Yeah." Felicity nodded erratically. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do this."

She had to.

She pulled out her suitcase, flipping it open and randomly started grabbing anything within reach. She didn't stop to wonder why she needed her alarm clock or three bottles of perfume or the fritzy lingerie the room had come with. She grabbed and shoved whatever it was in her hands into the suitcase. She'd just buy anything else she needed whenever they got… wherever they were going.

Because she was doing this.

Because she needed to do this.

Her entire life she had waited for something that would push her over the edge, and now she had it. She'd always wondered what it would be, the catalyst, but no matter what it might have been, she had thought she would be ready for it, whatever it was going to be, because she knew on a bone-deep level that this existence of hers was not going to be her life forever.

She'd always assumed she would be cold and emotionless when the time came, since that was how she lived her life - as detached as she could make herself.

But this possibility had been the farthest from her mind.

And now she was _terrified_.

Felicity paused at the entrance to the closet, squeezing her eyes shut as more hot tears leaked down her cheeks. The tears felt like acid, and her nose was so clogged it felt like her brain was becoming cotton. She hadn't cried this much in a long time, not since she'd had to watch her father forcibly dragged out of their house before her mom had shoved her face into her stomach so she couldn't see what they did to him.

And now… now she was going to be a mom… and just the thought of having to protect her child like that, from seeing something a child had no business being near, made her heart drop.

A sob slid out before she could stop it and she clamped her hand over her mouth; she was afraid if she gave in, she wouldn't stop. It wasn't fear of the constant parade of the someone's in the hallway hearing her and wondering what was going on, it was fear that if she let the reigns of control over her emotions go… she would be lost to it, she would drown in them and her chance to get out would be gone.

And she couldn't afford that.

Wiping her face, she sniffed, rubbing her eyes. She needed to get to a phone and call Donna. How was she going to get her out? She knew better than to assume that someone wasn't watching her little house in Nevada. She also knew for a fact that her mother's phone was constantly being monitored, it had been since before Felicity had even come here, so she couldn't just call her.

Why hadn't they come up with some special code? They should have come up with a contingency code.

"Later," Felicity promised. "I need to go. Later, I'll worry about it later."

She grabbed an armful of clothes, pulling them off hangers blindly and without any real grace or precision. Most of them fell to the floor, and she paused to grab some shoes that she thought she might need. She didn't notice they were dark green stilettos with gold clasps.

She might need them.

She probably needed pants, pants were good.

What about baby clothes? She didn't have baby clothes. She couldn't just run out in the middle of the night and get baby clothes.

Why was she worried about baby clothes, the thing wasn't any bigger than a blip inside her right now, and oh god, she was _pregnant_.

Felicity stuffed the clothes into the suitcase, shoving it in awkwardly and in large humps. She was wasting space, she thought in the back of her mind, she would regret not packing properly…

Should she bring shampoo?

A soft thwack interrupted her thoughts, coming from her large picture window overlooking the mansion's vast garden.

Felicity jumped at the sudden sound, her stomach dropping to her feet as a chill raced down her spine. Her eyes ticked to the window, the curtains drawn back… but all she saw was the vague glow of the garden lights, the lit-up fountain in the distance and her blurry reflection, her room in shambles, but nothing else…

She barely caught the flash of her bedroom light reflecting on green leather before a pair of heavy boots shattered the window, glass and broken wood spraying everywhere.

Felicity screamed, reeling backwards until she slammed against a wall as a large man landed in a crouch, his boots crushing broken glass. He immediately moved towards her and she tried to scramble away from him but she had nowhere to go.

He was _huge_ \- how was he taking up every inch of the room like that? His very presence felt like a physical entity coming at her - she didn't see the hood, or the broad shoulders - the room was suddenly gone and she was sucked into a giant dark tunnel of death as he stalked towards her, his bow coming up, an arrow alright aimed _right at her._

Felicity Meghan Smoak-Queen was not someone who shrank away.

She had spent her entire life with Destiny hanging over her head, a destiny she had wanted nothing to do with, so she had learned to fight for what she wanted because it had literally been the only way.

She was a fighter… but not now.

Because it wasn't just her.

Felicity instinctively shrunk away from him, curving her body over to protect her stomach without a second thought and she turned into the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible.

"Felicity Queen," he said, his voice scarily dark and mutated, like it was coming through a modulator, and she froze at the unnatural sound, fear and adrenaline rocking through her so fast it nearly knocked her over.

She wanted to crawl inside the wall and hide, but one thing the Queen mansion boasted was solid architecture.

"Felicity Queen," he repeated, his voice a thick growl that made her flinch. Like the voice had strings on it, forcing her to pay attention, she turned to look at him, eyes wide. She wrapped her arms around her stomach when she came face to face with an arrow.

The vigilante.

The freaking Starling City Vigilante had just busted through her window and the _one time_ the security detail wasn't responding…

"You-" he started.

Felicity didn't think, she acted.

She grabbed the nearest thing to her and threw it right at him - it was a floor lamp with a stone base. It didn't go very far, but he was close enough that it clipped his shoulder before he could dodge it completely.

The distraction was enough for her to dart around him but he was fast, way too fast, and he snatched her around the waist - a jolt of fear so vivid it felt like someone was stabbing her in the chest shot through her when his arm touched her stomach and she went limp. He tossed her back against the wall and she scrambled to her feet.

"Don't move!" he growled, the modulator sound gone, but his voice still had the same tenor that stoked the living fear in her chest. He grabbed another arrow and aimed the bow again and she crouched over, hiding as much of herself as she could. "Felicity Queen, you have-"

"Don't shoot me!" Felicity shouted, interrupting him before he could finish.

He let out an impatient grunt and she held up a hand to stave him off.

"Please. Please, I'm pregnant," she said softly. A tear slipped down her cheek as she said it for the first time - out loud - and in front of a terrifying man holding an arrow pointed right at her stomach.

He froze, going so still she didn't think it was humanly possible.

"Please… don't shoot me, please."

The longest moment of her life slowly eked by as he just stared at her. She didn't dare move, fright keeping her frozen. She felt so exposed, barefoot in the sea of glass, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a tank top; she knew her feet were bleeding from her attempt to run away from him. She could feel the hot sting and the shards of glass embedded in her heels, but she was afraid if she moved, an arrow would fly right through her chest and then…

And then…

Felicity swore she _felt_ his eyes on her as he stared at her, not breathing.

She flinched when his shoulders fell, like the weight of her words just punched him in the gut, and he slowly lowered the bow, inch by inch until it was no longer a threat.

The arrow clattered to the carpeted floor with a heavy thud.

"Pregnant?" he whispered and ice slid down her spine at the voice.

The modulator was gone, as was the vivid wall of terror he had been imposing a moment ago…

Now he was just a man again, just a human standing in the middle of her room, wearing a green hood; she couldn't see his eyes, but she felt them like a vice grip around her throat.

She knew that voice… but it wasn't possible.

Of course she knew that voice. Her entire world had been tied to the owner of that voice since before she was born. She had come into this world contractually obligated to know this voice, and she had lived her life built around what was waiting for her when she came of age. She had lived her world wondering what his voice sounded like, who he was, what he was like, how he would treat her, and hating him just because of the deal her parents had made with the Bratva.

And when the unthinkable had happened, when she had been gifted with those five years of freedom and normalcy… she had learned to let the hate go.

Until he came back, from wherever he had been for those five years, and everything had been ripped away from her again in the blink of an eye.

She knew - in her saner and more logical moments - that it wasn't actually him she hated because she didn't know him. They had been married for seven months, two weeks and three days now, and they still didn't know anything about the other. It had been an unspoken agreement that it was going to stay that way.

They didn't talk about their lives, they didn't talk about the Business - either the legal or the illegal ones - and they didn't say anything past, "Good morning," and, "Goodnight."

They didn't talk about the contractual obligation for heirs or the fact that they both knew she was on birth control.

They just… were.

And for a while, the anger and hate had simmered to a manageable level. The arrangement was old, but the marriage was still new, and the future still unknown as far as she was concerned…

But now it surged back to life in her chest as she realized the one person - the very single one person whom she had hoped would never know… now knew.

_He knew…_

No, it wasn't possible.

"_Don't shoot me! Please. Please, I'm pregnant…"_

It wasn't possible that this was…

"You're pregnant?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Felicity collapsed back against the wall, her legs sliding out from under her as the full weight of what was happening settled over her. All these months she had lived here, all these months she had shared the same roof, shared the same table, the same bed… all this time, and he had been someone - _something_ \- else entirely.

"Oh god," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Her entire world had just flipped upside down and her stomach lurched, vomit dancing across the back of her throat.

When she opened her eyes again, he still hadn't moved, and now she recognized the feeling of his eyes on her.

It was the same weight she felt when he thought she wasn't looking, wasn't aware, that one that followed her nearly everywhere she went.

Tears blurred her vision as she asked, "Oliver?"

The End

* * *

This is just an idea at the moment - this collection should really be called 'Bre's Idea Dumping Ground (so they don't get sucked away into the black hole inside her crazy head)'. Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	5. Orange Juice

**Orange Juice**

by Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: T

Summary: Notting Hill AU. All it took was a purple scarf with white stars and orange juice.

* * *

The feedback for that last ficlet? Astoundingly awesome. Am I writing a multi-chapter? I've certainly got plans to!

What I'm currently working on:  
Blood Hands - a multi-chapter canon Bratva fic  
Dotted Lines - the tattoo AU  
King and Queen - the multi-chapter AU Bratva fic

First two are plotted out, just need to fill them in with, you know, words (I prefer to have several chapters written before I start posting, because I lack discipline otherwise). King and Queen might take me a bit longer. In the meantime, I hit a snag in Blood Hands, so I sat down and watched Notting Hill. And this happened.

* * *

There were three things wrong with her day.

The first was that she was too nice. She really needed to stop being so nice, or rather she needed to stop listening to any old sob story and giving in.

That led directly to her second thing, which was ever hiring Roy Harper as her employee. Although she sort of blamed his parents for gracing him with that charming puppy-dog smile he used like a secret weapon. Well, his parents and whoever had helped him refine it until it was like kicking a puppy saying no to him.

And this all tied into the third thing which was that Roy Harper had forgotten to get actual coffee on his coffee run.

"I forgot what you wanted," he said, shrugging his shoulders and Felicity buried her face into her hands. "I don't get what the big deal is anyway, you've already had, like, five cups this morning."

"I have only had _two_, Roy," Felicity said into her palms. She didn't look up as she used her fingers to measure. "And that is about this much too little. Which you should really know by now considering you see me do this every single day." Felicity looked up at him and made a face. "And how could you forget my order, it never changes."

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Oh wait, that's right. You've gone on dozens of coffee runs and only come back with actual coffee _twice_!"

"Haven't you ever heard that that sludge can stunt your growth, Barbie?" Roy asked, completely unruffled, and Felicity narrowed her eyes.

"How about you take that wiseass attitude of yours and use it to put away some boxes," she replied.

There was that stupid smile of his. "You know you love me."

"I know you have muscles that can lift heavy things, that's about as far as my affection for you goes."

Roy laid his hand over his chest, giving her a pathetic look. "You slay me."

Despite herself, Felicity cracked a smile and he grinned.

She pointed her pencil at her lips. "This smile means nothing until those boxes are unpacked."

"I am your faithful servant," he said, giving her a bow as the doorbell for the front door dinged. Felicity waved Roy away with a, "Channel that mocking into some lifting," before she moved to greet her new customer.

What she immediately noticed was that the guy completely engulfed her entire shop. The sun was in its mid-morning position, flooding the front windows with blinding rays of light, so not only was he dwarfing the shop, he was really just a giant dwarfing shadow of a guy.

Her shop wasn't very big to begin with. It was a specialty store that had a novelty feel to it where she sold rare or one-of-a-kind items she had started collecting at MIT. What had been a fun tiny hobby quickly grew into a closet full of weird little things. If she wanted to trace it back, it began when she saw her roommate's Pan-Am bag that she used as carry-on luggage when traveling, which in turn led to Felicity and Jen spending their weekends combing through the dozens of the thrift stores littered all over Boston.

The shop didn't do great, but it didn't do bad. It was a business that gave you ulcers, but you were happy to have them. She could afford to live comfortably in the apartment above the shop, and she could afford to pay Roy something - he was the best employee she'd ever had, even if he had figured out on day two how to push every single one of her annoyance buttons.

Her shop wasn't much, but it was hers.

And this guy was making it look like it was the size of a cardboard box.

"Hi, welcome to The Smoak Screen," Felicity said, hopping off her stool at the counter. She saw the guy look at her but his face was still in shadow as she approached. "Can I help you find something?"

"I'm just looking," he replied, and the timber of his voice struck her. Felicity paused, feeling the hint of déjà vu coming on. She had lived in Starling City for several years now but she didn't exactly have a social life. And she would remember someone as… big as he was.

Maybe this would be her reasoning for Roy next time - no coffee means she started to imagine things.

"Well, shout if you need anything."

"Thanks."

Felicity turned and headed back to the counter. She glanced back when he moved further into the shop, and she saw him picking up a thin purple scarf with little white stars all over it.

"Are you shopping for your wife?" He stiffened. "Or girlfriend? Or not, it could be anyone, I'm not trying to assume that it's for anyone, because I don't know." She knew he was looking at her - despite the glaring sun - because she could feel his eyes drilling into her forehead. "The reason I ask is because I don't think they'd like that scarf."

He paused, and the longer she stared at the shadow the sun was creating, the more his face started to take face-shape. Maybe he'd come in before, he looked awfully familiar.

"Oh?" he asked, his amusement evident, and she took that as a good sign.

She stepped closer, waving at the scarf. "I sort of have a feeling about these things. It's not like a supernatural sort of feeling, it's just a… feeling. Like that feeling you get when you find the right pair of shoes. Not that you probably spend a lot of time buying the right pair of shoes, although maybe you do, or maybe you're more of a… tie… guy."

He chuckled.

Felicity paused. "Sorry. I have clearly not had enough coffee. I just don't think that's the right scarf."

He didn't respond, and Felicity wondered if she had just talked her first customer of the day right back out of her shop before he'd barely had time to browse. He had been pretty clear earlier, but the scarf was just… _wrong_. And she was used to most guys coming in and making a beeline for her, wanting to get the one item they were there for and then get out again.

Apparently not this one.

"But you are obviously here to browse, so I will leave you to browse."

She turned to go when he reached out and touched her elbow, and she felt a tiny zing that had her looked down at his hand. She hoped it was for a split second, because she might have taken a lot longer than that to notice that he had _amazing hands._

"No," he said, nodding to the scarves. "I was just looking. If you have suggestions…"

"Oh. Okay. Good!" Felicity said. "You're doing good so far, a scarf is the right choice." She immediately pushed aside the purple one with the white stars and dug a little deeper before pulling out a beautiful silken blue and green ornamental scarf and a red knit one. "Now, I just need to…"

And then she looked at him.

She really should not have done that.

Because he was Oliver Queen.

Felicity blinked.

Oliver Queen, a movie star who rivaled the likes of Brad Pitt or George Clooney - or some other international movie star who had looks that were strangely magnetic along with shockingly good acting chops - was in her shop, looking at bad scarves, taking over the room just by existing… and he was looking at _her_.

Felicity gaped at him for a moment, and he stared back, wearing a polite and patient smile like this was something he ran into every day, people staring at him with their mouths hanging open and old coffee breath. And she'd had something spinachy for breakfast, hadn't she? What if she something green in her teeth, or a green tongue?

She snapped her mouth closed and looked at the scarves again, a surge of adrenaline making her heart feel like it was exploding. The scarf was shaking in time with her hands, because her arms felt like they were going to vibrate right off her torso.

"Okay." She took a breath. She felt like her center of gravity had just nosedived. "I just need to know a few things. About the person… you're buying this for," she said, her words coming out in halted breaths. She blindly held up the scarves. "Or you can just pick one. Or you can have both."

He chuckled again and said, "It's for my sister."

God, no wonder his voice sounded so familiar, didn't she just watch that cowboy movie he did last year a few days ago? The one where you got to see… all of his… backside.

Felicity blushed and fought to remember what he had just said, and not to realize that this man had an ass that you could absolutely bounce a quarter, and a dime, and a penny, and anything ever off of… and to ignore the way he cocked his head as he watched her, the fake smile he had been wearing turning into something a little wider, something a little more… deadly to her organs.

"Okay. Sister. Right." She swallowed. Thankfully muscle memory wasn't just for the actual muscles in her limbs as she went on her normal spiel. "How does she take her coffee?"

He gave her quizzical look at the odd question. This was her cue to explain her method - because she did have a method - but her mind blanked on her. Instead she stared back at him with wide eyes, unable to make her lips form words until he answered.

"Uh, black. I think."

"Okay… and… how does she open envelopes? Does she follow the flap… flappy thing, or… or rip right into them?"

She watched his lips curl up into more of a smile, like he was enjoying her tripping over her words, and why wouldn't he? She was just the local bumbling shop owner who didn't know how to keep her cool because Oliver Queen was _in her shop_.

"She opens them from the side actually." She lifted her eyebrows and he used his hands to imitate. "She tears that little corner flap and rips it right up the side."

"Adventurous," Felicity said and he chuckled - again. Instead of ramping up the butterflies trying to outfly each other in her stomach, it put her a little more at ease. It helped that her babbling wasn't making him uncomfortable. "Okay. And last question is what is the first letter of her middle name."

Oliver raised an eyebrow at that one and she realized who it was she had just asked that. Was that too personal? Of course that was too personal. That wasn't too personal for any random person off the street, but asking a guy who spent his entire life in the limelight, who probably went more out of his way than anyone to hide these facts? _Way too personal_.

"You don't have to answer that, if you don't want to," Felicity said, and he just nodded, his smile losing all that natural charm he had just about obliterated her with, leaving her feeling disappointed.

Disappointed? That is really just a horribly stupid thing to think, a severely famous person was in her shop, looking at things she had specifically handpicked for sale, and she was disappointed that he was giving her his patented movie star smile? That smile was enough to melt the panties right off anyone with eyes, and she was disappointed?

The better question was how she was aware enough right now to be able to tell between his movie star smile and his… other smile?

Further evidence that lack of coffee was bad.

"Okay, um, the blue and green one. Is the one," she said. "This has a fun story actually. An old Chinese man was wearing this when he, you know…" She made the classic sign of 'he's dead as dead can be dead.' Felicity's eyes snapped shut. "Which is the opposite of fun and really quite possibly the worst endorsement I could have possibly given this poor scarf."

He chuckled - the sound was devastating - and took the scarf from her with a nod. His fingers brushed hers and she wasn't sure if the tingle of his skin brushing hers was in her head or not as he said, "That's… authentic."

"Yes…" Felicity was still holding the red scarf as she nodded. "That is one way to think of it." She pointed at the desk where she had been sitting. "Register. Unless there's something else you needed? I don't want to rush you out of here unless you want to be rushed out."

The chuckle. Again.

"I'm ready," he said and she made a beeline for the counter.

She heard him following her, and she nearly tripped over a basket she had sitting behind the desk but she caught herself before her forehead made out with her stool. She quickly typed in the price of the scarf - and she would only later realize she had severely overcharged him for it, because right at that moment she had no idea what her hand was doing - and he handed her a few bills.

She grabbed a bag and put the green and blue scarf in, automatically grabbing the red scarf as well and shoving it in along with it. "You can have this one too. On the house. Because red is pretty, and lots of girls like red. And in case I'm wrong."

Oliver smiled at that, and it was the real smile again. "I highly doubt you'll be wrong," he said, taking the bag from her with a smile. "Thank you."

Wow, they should bottle those lips and teeth.

"Have a good day," he said before turning to leave.

"You… good day as well… too," she replied, but he was already out the door.

Roy came back a few minutes later to find her still staring at the front, barely blinking.

She only turned when he waved his hand in front of her face.

"You alive in there?"

"What?" she responded. She looked at Roy slowly. "I think I need more coffee."

"Okay…"

"No," she said. "Not coffee. Do you know who that was? No, you probably wouldn't care because I don't see you ogling him… unless you do." Felicity furrowed her brow. "Which I don't think you do. I should splurge. Orange juice!"

"You do realize you're talking in tongues right now, right?" Roy asked and Felicity just looked at him. "You okay in there? Because last time I checked, orange juice wasn't a splurge."

"It is for me," Felicity replied. She stepped out from behind the counter and patted his shoulder. "Watch the shop."

"Yeah, no, I'm not doing that."

"Thanks, Roy," Felicity said as she grabbed her purse.

"I said _no_, blondie."

"Uh-huh," Felicity replied as she left.

The sun was blinding as she made her way to the coffee vendor down the block. She barely remembered making the decision to cut through the alley that held the entrance to her apartment. She barely remembered making it to Lou's cart, her coffee guy, and the look he gave her when she asked for some orange juice instead of her usual mid-morning triple cappuccino.

No, the next time she was aware of anything was when she was about to head down the alley back to her shop when she stopped, the surreal feeling of the entire last few minutes starting to fade a bit, and she realized she actually did want coffee, and what a splurge that would be - coffee _and_ orange juice.

She switched gears, turning to head back to Lou, but instead she ran face-first into the guy coming up behind her.

They collided, her orange juice right between them.

The paper cup exploded and she yelped as the juice seeped through her sundress and the shirt of…

"Shit!" Oliver said loudly. The bright orange was soaking right through his white t-shirt and staining the front of his very, very tight and well-designed jeans.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!" Felicity said. She dropped the cup, immediately stepping in and plucking his soaked shirt of his chest - and wow, _his chest_ \- and he batted her hand away.

"I got it," Oliver replied, pulling the shirt away from his skin. "Thanks."

The 'thanks' sounded more like a 'fuck you,' which had Felicity flushing in horror.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there, and I was going back to Lou for coffee, and I'm so glad that wasn't coffee."

Oliver grunted, somehow the sound coming out very similarly to the way he'd said thanks.

"Can I… I live right… right here, in this alley - I mean, not _in_ the alley, I'm not some weird vagabond, not that there's anything wrong with vagabonds… but I do live right there and you can come in and I'm sure I've got something somewhere you can change into if you need to-"

The way he was looking at her had her words stumbling to a stop, and he gave her a pointed look, his eyes zeroing in on her wet dress and Felicity looked down. You could see every inch of her bright orange bra _right through her dress_.

She made an alarmed noise that sounded like a goat screaming and she immediately crossed her arms.

"Oh wow, this is quickly becoming the worst day of my life," she said with a self-deprecating smile that Oliver didn't really return. At all.

In fact, charming Oliver Queen was gone, and in his place was a grumpy, glaring guy who looked like he wanted to murder the oranges that had splattered all over his shirt.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "If you want, I might have... something."

He whipped his hand out, orange juice droplets spraying everywhere as he said, "Where's your place?"

Felicity pointed over his shoulder, at the dingy alley door covered in graffiti. "Right there. The ugly, sad door that actually hides a really nice apartment." When he looked at her again with an indecipherable look, she cringed away. "It's not as scary as it looks, is what I mean."

He plucked at his shirt again, looking around, looking like he really wished he had never met her before giving her a short nod. "Okay."

"Great, good, okay," Felicity blurted, darting around him and fumbling for her keys. She had the door opened and tried to usher him in first, but he merely held the door for her, staring at her with impassive eyes, waiting for her to go first, and all those nerves from earlier started clamoring across her bones, adrenaline making her feel like she was going to shake her skin right off.

"It's not much," Felicity said, climbing the steep stairs until she reached her second front door, which she unlocked with shaky fingers, far too aware of the fact that not only was someone very close behind her - and it had been a long time since she had had a someone up in her apartment - but that it was _Oliver Jonas Queen_.

He didn't respond and she clamped her mouth shut to keep it from running off from her again.

Sunlight flooded the entire front room, temporarily blinding her, and she ran right into her couch.

"Oh ow, okay. Who moved that couch?" Felicity dodged around it without looking back to see the look he was probably giving her as she nearly ran into a bookshelf next. "I'll just run in here and see if I have something."

She nearly tripped over the rug in the hallway to her bedroom before she stumbled through her bedroom door.

"Oh my god," she breathed, her hands shaking so bad she could barely grab the first thing she could find to cover her ruined dress. Could this be considered flashing? Had she just flashed Oliver Queen?

She shrugged the black t-shirt on backwards before looking around.

Hadn't Cooper left a shirt here? She knew she had something somewhere. She practically destroyed her closet trying to find it, the entire time trying to remember what mess she had left in the living room that he was probably staring at - he was already annoyed that she'd babbled the entire time he'd been trying to shop anonymously, and then she'd smashed orange juice all over him, and now he was having to see she was just a poor slob who left her used coffee novelty mugs everywhere.

He wasn't making a sound, maybe he'd left.

She finally found the shirt.

"Got it!" Felicity ran back into the living room, holding it up and found Oliver standing by her fireplace, staring at the picture frames she had collaged over the brick. He turned back to her and Felicity had to do a double take when she saw the pleasant man she had encountered in her shop was back.

Whoa.

So this was very Jekyll and Hyde.

"I, uh… here. Is a shirt. For you." She held it up. "You can change in the bathroom, which is right over there."

Oliver took the shirt, nodding his thanks and headed into the bathroom.

He was in there for maybe thirteen seconds when the door opened again and he came out, the blue shirt she had given him stretched to its literal gills across his chest. It was way too small, and plastered to every dip and angle of his chest. Felicity opened her mouth in another embarrassing bout of horror that the only shirt she had was that one when he zipped up his leather jacket, hiding it.

Wow, she didn't realize Cooper was that small.

"Cooper?" Oliver asked, lifting an eyebrow and Felicity's eyes widened. Oh, she'd said that out loud. Lovely.

"The guy… boyfriend - _ex_-boyfriend - who that shirt belonged to."

A smile grazed his lips for a quick second as he asked, "Ex?"

"Very ex. A long time ex." Felicity nodded.

He didn't move and she scrambled for something to say.

"Can I... get you something?"

What? What does one offer a movie star?

"Coffee? I have a lot of coffee. Or… food, but I don't really have food. I don't have anything. I sort of hit you with my splurge." He lifted an eyebrow and she winced. "That came out really weird, didn't it?"

"I think I'll just go."

"Oh," she replied, nodding. "Right. Well, door is… I'll walk you out."

Oliver nodded. Her heart stopped when he paused as he opened the door, looking back at her. Then her lungs positively ceased to do anything when he gave her a small smile before he left.

Felicity closed the door. She slowly turned and collapsed against it.

Her entire apartment looked completely different now.

She didn't get more than seven deep breaths when someone knocked on her door and she jumped.

It was likely Roy, wandering back here for help because he didn't know anything about "froofy bags"

But it wasn't Roy.

It was Oliver.

"Hi?" Felicity said.

"I forgot the scarves," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, yes, okay, um." She backtracked, looking around, not remembering seeing any bag of any kind. She vaguely heard him stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

"Oh your armchair," Oliver said helpfully and she spotted the bright blue plastic. She snatched it up and handed it over. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome."

Felicity rubbed her palms against her thighs as Oliver stared at her - who knew she was someone who got clammy palms? She smiled at him, nervously, trying to keep her breathing normal but she was standing less than a foot away from a mega-movie star in her apartment, and he was just… standing there.

"You're sure about that coffee?"

Oliver didn't respond. Instead, he titled his head, studying her. She ran her tongue of her teeth, just in case she didn't have spinach lodged somewhere.

"You're different," he finally said, a weird look on his face.

Her stomach plummeted. Okay, she had not been expecting that.

"Different. Like… different bad, right?" Felicity closed her eyes. "Yeah. I actually get that a lot. It's the scarf thing, isn't it? Or the questions. Because what does coffee have anything to do with personal tastes and-"

She didn't see him move. One second he was there and then he was…

Oliver cupped her face between his hands, cutting her off, and then he pressed his lips gently to hers. Felicity nearly stumbled into him, gripping his jacket in her trembling hands.

The kiss was soft, a perfect counter to the sure hold he had on her face.

Just as quickly as it happened, it was over, and Oliver stepped back, leaving Felicity frozen, blinking up at him.

"Different good," he said, his eyes darker than they had been a minute ago. He licked his lips and she nearly came undone as he looked at her like… like different was very good.

"Oh."

He glanced at the door, looking unsure, before looking back to her. She had no idea what he was going to say - he had just kissed her, though, this was something out of one of his dumb movies, not real life - before he gave her a sober look. "I think maybe this shouldn't be… mentioned to anyone."

"Nobody'd believe me," Felicity immediately whispered and a quick smile flashed over his face at that.

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes taking her in, before smiling softly. "It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah. You too. Very… surreal. Nice… and surreal."

He grinned, which turned her knees into Jell-O.

Felicity watched him turn, and leave.

She didn't move for several minutes, staring at the door, but he didn't come back.

Or the next day.

Or the one after that.

She harassed Roy until he finally snapped, assuring her he hadn't taken any messages from anyone, much less anyone named Oliver.

On the third day, she started to wonder if she'd imagined the entire thing, especially when she saw a candid shot of him in People magazine holding a shopping bag in Beverly Hills.

But on the fourth day, Felicity came out from the back of the shop, threading the purple scarf through her fingers, wondering if something was wrong with her head because she'd nearly ripped someone's hand off to keep them from buying it… to see Oliver leaning on her checkout counter.

With a smile, a replacement orange juice and a, "Do you like Italian?"

The End

* * *

I don't know. I literally just wanted to write an Olicity version of the opening scenes in Notting Hill, but I realized as this was ending that it was too easy. I'll potentially write a role reversal ficlet to accompany this - if anyone is interested in that? My mind went on a wild random soulmate AU tangent for this role reversal idea. (Btw, I really love orange undergarments, I see this becoming a theme in my ficlets.)

Btw, I'm dust2dust34 on Tumblr, if you fancy coming by and saying, "Howdy!"


	6. When You Sleep

**When You Sleep**

by Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: T  
Author's Notes: Part of my You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream ficlet collection. Fluff. All the fluff.

Anon Prompt: I don't know if you are currently taking prompts because i just discovered your blog but if you are could you write a fic about how Oliver and Felicity sleep? (together obviously)

Summary: (Anon Prompt) Seven times Oliver and Felicity fall asleep together…

* * *

For a man who spent the majority of his energy concentrated on keeping people _out_, the minute he surrendered to sleep - and she meant _surrendered_, as in he didn't jump awake at the slightest sound, he didn't thrash with nightmares, he didn't do anything but rest - it was a completely different story.

* * *

The first night they fell asleep together was in an exhausted heap on her couch.

He'd been staying at her apartment for barely three days now while he looked for a more permanent place to land - a decent place for an ex-billionaire vigilante at least - since he refused to let her buy him anything, much less a bed that wasn't a simple metal contraption.

It was three days of realizing he was way too big, that she thought he took over a room that was four times the size of her living room, and now that he was in her space? He made everything look really small. And don't get her started on running into him in the morning - she didn't realize how much comfort she had drawn from living alone because now she worried about drool dried on her face or smudged mascara that had escaped a face washing or making sure she didn't have frizzy bedhead.

It had been a late night of chasing the bad guys, catching and handing them over to Starling's best before they'd retired to the couch with two-day-old Chinese.

Oliver fell asleep first.

She remembered thinking the nice thing to do was let him rest for a minute before she woke him, that he looked like he was carrying a little less of that weight-of-the-world all over his broad shoulders when he was sleeping, that he looked at peace for the first time ever…

Felicity accidentally followed suit after one minute, and two hours later, a blaring infomercial for something with spices and socks woke her.

Felicity groaned in discomfort.

Because it was _hot_.

Wasn't the air conditioning on? Why was she paying literally half her paycheck for that stupid thing to be on all the time if it wasn't doing anything?

And then the hot _shifted_, and she realized it wasn't in fact a hot apartment, but a hot body. A very hot body, and not hot as in 'wow, you are so gorgeous I would literally lick your skin right off' - she hadn't thought about doing that, nope - but hot as in an 'I am a personal furnace, ask me how' sort of way.

Felicity's eyes cracked open, her glasses askew from being pressed into the cushions of the couch. She was slumped over, and Oliver was slumped over right next to her… or on top of her, really. Her heart jumpstarted to life, a dizzying surge of adrenaline rocketing through her veins as she realized there were parts him pressed to her that only happened in her head.

He moved again, rubbing his face against her arm, and instead of wondering how someone had managed to inject the actual _sun_ into a human body, Felicity shivered, causing goosebumps to erupt across her skin in a spine-tingling hot/cold combination that made her shiver again.

"Oliver?" Felicity whispered, barely heard over the stupid infomercial, and maybe she was doing that on purpose? Only a gentle snore was her answer, but she didn't hear it because of the TV.

Where was the remote?

It was on his side.

She moved, just enough for him to move in reaction, but instead of moving away from her, he scooted closer, and she froze, afraid of waking him. Which didn't make sense because she wanted to wake him.

"Oliver?"

He didn't budge.

She stared at him through half-awake lids, watching him nuzzle her arm again before curling his arm against his chest as he snuggled against her.

He was snuggling with her.

And it was the cutest and most debilitating thing she'd _ever seen_.

Despite the fact that her ribs were starting to ache, that her hip was wondering what she was thinking because it wasn't supposed to be jutting into her organs like that, that parts of her were sweating that she didn't even know could sweat, Felicity didn't move, and it didn't take her long to fall back asleep, glasses at an odd angle, late-night television screeching, vaguely thinking she'd need to throw away her shirt because it was going to have sweat stains the size of Canada on them…

Small price.

* * *

The next time they slept together was after their first date, on his bed in the loft he shared with Thea.

The date had been innocent as innocent could be, entirely informal, the opposite of the non-date dinner they had unexpectedly shared with the new vertigo guy. No, this had been a casual date, where they'd both worn jeans and walked around downtown Starling City, their idea of dinner a hotdog - his dotted with relish and mustard, hers slathered with ketchup - from a vendor.

It had been Oliver's idea, and when she'd asked if he was afraid their last date-date had jinxed them, he'd rolled his eyes before grabbing her hand:

"_I just want to be with you, Felicity. I don't want anything else."_

It was perfect.

When she'd slipped her fingers through his, he'd been staring at the ground, acting adorably shy, but she'd caught the most beatific tiny smile gracing his lips, one that had sent her heart tripping all over itself, especially when he'd squeezed her hand in his.

They'd wandered around aimlessly for hours. He hadn't stopped laughing for ten minutes straight when she'd shown him her awful Southern accent, and she'd teased him endlessly when he got caught holding a door open for no less than six women, all of whom gave him more than a once-over.

When a whip of wind sliced around a corner, Oliver had tugged her close, wrapping his arm around her. That would have been enough to send her into a fit of blushes but then he cupped her cheek with his other hand, pressing a soft affectionate kiss to her temple.

She'd bitten her lip so hard she nearly drew blood to stop the irrational giggle that wanted to bubble up because she had a boyfriend, and _he was so cute_.

When they got back to the loft, he'd pulled her upstairs with him - they had an unspoken agreement about going too far, too fast…

"I don't want the night to end," he'd said softly to her unspoken question, and she'd given him her own shy smile because somehow sharing a bed with him while _not_ having sex was alarmingly more intimate.

They stayed up talking, making out like she hadn't made out since she'd dated Cooper; he counted the freckles on her arms and she traced her finger all across his face, memorizing him…

They fell asleep facing each other, fingers interlaced between them, their socked feet tangled together.

The next morning, the sun shone through Oliver's floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting them where they laid on top of the comforter, cocooned around each other.

Felicity woke first; her face was pressed to Oliver's back, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other thrown up and over him, loosely cupping the top of his close-sheared head, her fingers grazing his forehead. Oliver was curled up, pressing back against her, one hand loose by his face, barely touching her fingers there while his other hand was wrapped tightly around her arm across his middle, holding her close to him.

Felicity pressed a soft dance of kisses over his back, stretching up to press her lips against the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

Oliver actually _purred_, goosebumps rising over his skin from her lips, before he whispered her name, so blissful it brought tears to her eyes.

* * *

When he got sick with a sinus infection, he swung from 'leave me alone' straight to 'don't leave' and back again.

Oliver Queen rarely, if ever, got sick. Probably because he spent a majority of his day doing all the right things for his body.

But he was also human, so it happened. And when he got sick?

_He got sick._

It started out easy enough, with a runny nose and a slight headache, but he'd played it right off, chasing her around the foundry, teasing her with his "sick cooties" - and if there was ever a thing to remember, it was Oliver saying 'sick cooties' - but then a runny nose became congestion, and then it became nausea and then he'd nearly fallen over when he stood up too fast at the foundry one night.

He'd finally relented to go to the doctor, and only because she poked his face, making white hot pain explode like a tiny atom bomb in his sinuses. He got a bundle of antibiotics and strict instructions to not move for the next several days, and she got a healthy dose of pissed-off vigilante masquerading as Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Whiny Reindeer.

He had so not enjoyed hearing that nickname.

After a fight involving the use of mentholated cream - "I _hate_ that stuff, Felicity. I will throw it out the window if you come near me with it." She'd snorted. "You really think you can even lift it right now?" His glare had only been slightly hampered by his watery bloodshot eyes - and spending the majority of the day trying to make his own chicken noodle soup (missing the pot entirely when he tried to pour it), he finally fell asleep.

Felicity was flicking through the channels, eyes scratchy with sleep, when he shifted next to her.

She froze, waiting for the inevitable grouching and her eye-rolling followed by his punching the pillow as hard as he could - which was not that hard since his body was way too weak - but he didn't do any of that.

Instead, he let out a soft little whine that made Felicity's heart crack right down the center and she turned towards him. His eyes were barely cracked open, his face scrunched in discomfort as he scooted closer. Felicity lifted her arm to caress his head, to see if he was still running a fever, and Oliver took advantage of the opening, sliding right into her open embrace.

He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, his head pillowed on her shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in tight. He let out a long, deep sigh as he relaxed against her, and it took him less than a few seconds to fall back asleep.

Felicity smiled softly, lightly scratching his scalp, making him moan softly in his sleep and nuzzle closer.

She settled on Grease, turning it down so he wouldn't wake, and slowly fell asleep randomly pressing her lips to Oliver's heated forehead while running her fingers down his back as he slept off his infection.

* * *

When she got pregnant with their first baby, Oliver made it a habit to always find a way to lay down so his head was in her lap - whether they were watching a movie, or she was reading, or if they were just lazing about - and would promptly fall asleep talking to The Bump.

If they were on the couch, he always made sure she was at the farthest end so he could stretch out, laying down so he was facing her stomach where her now-five-month bump waited for him.

If they were in bed, he made sure she was settled into her side before he flopped down diagonally, his face in her lap so he could read The Bump bedtime stories.

If they were in the park, he made sure their tree was available - the one that offered the best back support she'd ever found in anything _ever_. It took a while for their claim on the tree to grow, but Oliver's eventual looks of avid displeasure and sometimes bribery - one guy talked his way to up a hundred dollars, much to Felicity's chagrin - eventually meant it was always available when they got there each Sunday for their weekly visit.

(It would become a family tradition, that park, especially when Oliver anonymously donated a playground on one side and a baseball park on the other - his explanation to the QC Board at their balking, because this was his fourth large donation that month alone, was to inform them it was a big park, and they had three kids to entertain. End of story.)

It was their tree: her perch and his place to lay with his head in her lap while she read, or listened to whatever story was on tap for the day.

Today, it was a story of how he'd asked her to marry him.

Felicity's fingers carded through Oliver's hair - which was growing longer, she noticed, long enough for her to easily grab a healthy handful if she wanted to - while he dozed in her lap, murmuring to The Bump.

"Daddy was very nervous, which he should have probably been used to because Mommy always made him nervous. She'd made him nervous since the first time he met her, not that he would ever tell her that, because that would ruin his cool."

Felicity snorted and he gave her a serene smile without opening his eyes.

His finger traced over The Bump - she'd argued for a more original name than its obvious state of being a bump, but Oliver had shot her a squinchy frowny face before saying, 'I put it there, I get to call it what I want.' She'd then hit him in the face with a pillow.

With a content sigh, Felicity closed her eyes, leaning back against their tree as he continued the story of the two days it had taken him to finally ask her, and by that time she'd informed she'd already said yes, she was just waiting for him to catch up, which in theory meant she had already asked him because she'd already said the words.

"Mommy always did that to Daddy though," Oliver whispered, resting his hand on top of her belly.

A surge of tears pushed to the surface at his tone, at the way his hands cradled both her and the baby.

"She always knew, and she always waited… and made Daddy the happiest man in the entire world."

Oliver pressed a kiss to her stomach.

They both dozed on and off, in their little bubble, holding each other, and their future.

* * *

They fell asleep together in the hospital the night Felicity gave birth to their second baby, a little boy named Tommy, delivered four weeks before he was due. He was so tiny, small enough to look like a tiny puppy against Oliver's broad chest; for the first few days, they'd kept him in an incubator, but he'd come into the world kicking and screaming, with more life and vitality than was appropriate for a premature infant, and he'd been able to stay in the Queens room soon after.

Felicity had not fared so well.

The last thing she remembered was getting the green arrow, and the car in front of her going. She'd been listening to Evie chattering in the backseat while she hit the accelerator, followed by Oliver's chuckle at the logic line their daughter was following as he threw Felicity a sidelong glance to say, 'Mini-Felicity is at it again.'

It was the one time Felicity insisted on driving.

"_I can still drive, Oliver, I'm not an invalid."_

Oliver saw the car first, but by the time he yelled her name it was too late. It collided with the driver side, Felicity taking the brunt of it as it rammed them across the intersection into another car.

The only thing Felicity remembered hearing was the sound of metal _crunching_ \- metal wasn't supposed to crunch like that, in a harsh ugly squeal that sliced right through her eardrum.

And then the next thing she was aware of was a low, steady beeping when she woke up eight days after.

She had been in surgery for ten hours, delivering Tommy via cesarean. She'd had massive internal bleeding, lacerations across her liver and spleen, the driving force in keeping her sedated for so long to let her body heal. The only reason Tommy had survived was because Felicity had instinctively curled her body around her stomach, twisting just enough that she got most of the damage, not him… which was going to leave a nice, handsome scar all over her stomach. She hadn't seen it yet but she could feel the tight pulling of about three thousand stitches. Well, it _felt _like that, maybe three thousand was a bit of an overstatement. It would definitely leave a nice mark.

She didn't think Oliver would appreciate hearing that she was raising in the ranks of the Who Has the Most Interesting Scars game.

It was nearly one in the morning when Felicity woke.

Her head still felt like it was full of cotton, and there was a constant level of dull pain that no amount of morphine was able to fix deep inside her body. She wasn't sure if it was because her organs had been fileted or if it was the constant 'what if' floating around in the back of her head - what if she had hit the accelerator a second later, what if she hadn't twisted, what if something had happened to Evie, what if something had happened to Oliver, what if…

She shifted, jostling Oliver where he was sitting next to the bed, both hands cradling one of hers, his face laying on top of the hand pile. He opened her eyes the same time she did, and Felicity felt the slow build of relief and terror she'd been swimming in since she'd woken up when she saw the evidence of what had happened on him. It was in the bags under his eyes, the dried tear tracks, and the nasty gash across his right temple where his head had collided with the window. Evie had escaped with only a few bruises and scratches, although Oliver told her she'd outright refused to leave his side until Felicity opened her eyes.

"Hey," he whispered, sitting up. "How're you?" She gave him a tired smile before she looked around the room. Reading her mind, he said, "John took Evie home for a sleepover with Sara. And Tommy…" Elation filled her heart at the mention of her son and Felicity tried to sit up but Oliver immediately pushed her back down. "Don't move," he said, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll get him."

He was in a bassinet literally right next to him that she hadn't seen over his shoulders and when Oliver bent over, picking up a tiny, tiny bundle, she let out a little sob that had Oliver's worried eyes flying to her.

"I'm okay," she whispered, tears flooding her eyes as she stared at Tommy. "I'm very, very okay."

She lifted her hands, indicating he should hand him over and he gave her a tiny smile before leaning over, setting the little boy on her chest. He had done so well in the eight days since he'd been forced from his comfy womb home, already growing by leaps and bounds, but still small enough that he felt more like a comfortable pressure on her chest instead of an actual human.

Tommy barely moved, letting out a tiny gurgle as he slept through it all.

She inhaled, smelling him, and let out a deep sigh, no longer feeling that deep ache inside her.

Oliver watched her, brushing his hand over her forehead. She looked up at him, and the tired, loving smile tinged with abject relief he gave her made her heart skip a beat.

They were going to be okay.

He pressed a long kiss to her forehead as he sat down.

Felicity stared at Tommy, Oliver's hand still on her head, his other finding Tommy's back.

They fell asleep like that, with Felicity turned towards Oliver, holding their son to her heart. Oliver's arms cradled both of them as he rested his head on her shoulder, not caring that he was going to wake up with the nastiest backache in the history of backaches from the awkward angle, only caring that his entire world was still whole.

* * *

The next time they fell asleep was on a towel on the beach in Hawaii, with Oliver laying on his back and Felicity draped across him, sunning her back in the annoyingly revealing bikini she'd bought specifically for this trip. It was part of the reason Oliver was having a hard time leaving her side - those triangles were far too small.

The loud squeals coming from their children echoed the laughter from others on the beach further down and the rush of the waves as a gentle breeze rustled Felicity's hair.

"You're tickling me," Oliver said drowsily and Felicity's answer was to move closer, letting the wind push more of her hair across his chest. "Felicity."

She scooted closer.

With a growl, Oliver pushed her onto her back, and she let out a small squeal as he flipped to his stomach, draping half his body over hers. He pressed his face into her neck, pinning her down on the towel. Felicity took a deep breath, lifting him slightly, and blew the air right into his ear.

He grumbled, and she giggled.

"Could you guys not _snog_ where everyone can see you?" Tommy asked. Felicity and Oliver looked up as their eight year old ran up, grabbing his boogey board. He made a face, saying matter-of-factly, "It's really gross and people are staring."

And then he was off, running through the sand back to the water.

"Who the hell taught him the word 'snog'?" Oliver asked, letting his head drop back on her and Felicity chuckled.

"That would probably be your daughter, Mr. Queen," she replied, angling her head to check on the kids. Evie was on her own towel several yards away, reading a book, looking up every few minutes to watch her brothers. Tommy was diving back into the ocean while six-year-old Johnny built an impressive sandcastle with a large moat the size of Oliver's arms.

Oliver snorted. "_My_ daughter. Right."

"You'll be grateful she takes after me when she starts dating."

"If," Oliver said, shaking his head against her. "You mean _if_ she starts dating."

"I cannot wait for that discussion," she replied airily, her eyes drifting shut in contentment. "You keep calling her 'Mini-Me' but guess where she gets her stubbornness?"

"Also you," Oliver said and she pinched his arm, making him nip at her jaw.

She sighed, turning to face her husband as the sun warmed them. As the afternoon grew long, his hand lazily drifted down her side before finding its favorite place on her body. His fingers gently traced the scars across her lower stomach. He did it without thought anymore; his hand always sought them out whenever he could, almost as if he was reminding himself that she was there, that their son was there, and that everything was okay.

* * *

On the night of their thirtieth wedding anniversary, they fell asleep on a deck chair, listening to the sounds from the party inside filled to the brim with friends and family - a family they had worked to build over the years, through more joy and heartache than she would have thought was possible for two people, one that was equal parts friends and blood.

Oliver had pulled her outside with him, slipping away unseen. Without a word, he'd cupped the back of her neck and kissed her forehead before tangling his fingers with hers and pulling her towards the far end of the deck. Kicking a chair away from the others, Oliver sat down, tugging her down with him.

Felicity kicked off her heels, sighing with pleasure as she stretched out her toes before snuggling up against her husband as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Oliver tilted his head up, pressing his lips to her jaw, a hand sliding up her spine to the back of her neck again, holding her in that way that he knew always made her shiver. He pressed his face into her shoulder, inhaling deeply before releasing it, letting any tension slide right out of his body as he settled in with her.

"Happy anniversary, Mrs. Queen," he whispered, his stubble - the stubble he never, ever got rid of and which she was really, really grateful for - scratching at her skin, and she pressed closer to him, kissing his temple.

"Happy anniversary, Mr. Queen," she replied. "I think you might be stuck with me."

"Now that just sounds horrible," he replied gruffly, pulling her in tighter. Felicity hummed her assent - this was their thing, the same thing they had been saying since their six month anniversary. She curled her legs up, settling in with him as he sighed, his breath dancing across her collarbone.

People talking and laughing and the sound of dishes being moved and the front door opening and closing and… everything that their lives had become, moving around them, _living_ as a result of them, added into the background as they held each other in the warm summer breeze.

Felicity wasn't sure who dozed off first, but her last thought was how amazing it was that this giant, terrifying man - who had done more damage with his hands, and had even more damage than that done to his soul - had ended up in her arms, falling asleep without a care in the world, trusting her to take care of him and love him, trusting her to know he did the same for her…

"I love you, Oliver," she whispered.

His lips curled up in a tiny smile as he slept.

The End

* * *

These could all be little stand-alone bits, couldn't they? As per usual, this thing ran away from me. This started out as "Three times…" before becoming "Five times…" and now it's "Seven times…" so I'm posting it before it becomes "Sixty-Eight Times…"

Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	7. Happy Birthday

**Happy Birthday**

by Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: T  
Author's Notes: I got a recent anon note that made me so happy, I wrote a drabble: _You make me happy with your fics. Lots of chocolate, whipped cream and cupcakes..._

Summary: Chocolate, whipped cream and cupcakes… (drabble response to anon love)

* * *

Oliver was exhausted. His eyes were scratchy, his head was throbbing; every muscle ached with the need to lay down and not move for at least seventeen hours. He just wanted to curl around Felicity, put his head on her chest and fall asleep with her.

If anyone would have asked 'Ollie Queen' ten years ago if he would be this big of a sap over a woman, he would have laughed. But then again, Ollie was a fucking idiot.

Oliver might have had some of that 'fucking idiot' lingering inside him for a while, but he'd finally learned from his mistakes - it had taken some time, but now he didn't take a single minute with her for granted.

Oliver unlocked the front door to Felicity's apartment. He'd moved in over a year ago, with the understanding that they would find a place all their own eventually, but it kept getting put off. Which was fine. He didn't need a place that was all their own - wherever she was, that was his home.

He stayed quiet, in case she was resting, since she'd gone home earlier that night not feeling well. All the better. It wasn't his favorite day of the year, and he'd spent a good deal of that disfavor beating the living crap out of every purse snatcher, gang member and overall creep he could find in the Glades until he'd dragged his ass back to the foundry, leaving himself just enough energy to change and get home to her.

He'd stopped for some chicken noodle soup, although he half-hoped she was asleep, so he could fall in next to her and they could put this day to rest for another year, and start tomorrow anew.

It took Oliver way too long to notice the soft glow coming from the bedroom as he toed off his shoes, dropping his keys in the basket. He picked up the mail, thumbing through it, about to call out her name when he finally noticed, and he paused, furrowing his brow.

"Felicity?"

Tossing the mail onto the couch, Oliver moved down the hall.

The first thing he saw was her bare feet… and then her bare legs… and then her bare _everything_.

Oliver gaped, suddenly not feeling a single inch of the discomfort he'd been so ready to sleep off a moment ago.

Felicity was laid out across a towel on their bed, surrounded by a soft sea of candles that flickered with the moving air as he slowly stepped in. She was leaning back on her elbows, her hair up in a high loopy bun, and she was naked.

_Naked_… except for the small mounds of whipped cream she had sprayed artfully to cover her sex and her pert breasts. She'd littered little chocolate chip pieces all over herself, some stuck in the whipped cream, some having fallen off her curvy slopes and others melting pieces stuck to her, leaving little spots of goodness smeared across her pale skin just aching to be licked off.

But the real prize was the large chocolate cupcake sitting on her stomach, a single lit candle stuck through the center.

She smiled. "Happy birthday, Oliver."

He didn't move. He couldn't do anything but stare at her, feeling a mixture of the wicked arousal that had had him hard the instant he saw her luscious legs, as well as amazement that not only had she remembered - which of course she did, it was Felicity - but that she'd purposefully not made it into a big deal, knowing how he felt about it.

Instead, she'd left it for just them.

That amazement paved the way for the blinding love that warmed his chest as she said, "I know today isn't your favorite day, but I wanted to celebrate it. And the only way I could think of celebrating without you getting growly was with nakedness." She made a face. "Obviously. Since I'm naked."

An involuntary grin covered his face as she took a careful, even breath, the cupcake on her stomach wavering, before giving him a saucy look.

"Plus, everybody loves birthday cake. You can't tell me you don't love birthday cake."

Oliver let out a breathy chuckle, dropping the forgotten soup.

"True," he said, taking his jacket off slowly, savoring the way she bit her lip, looking up at him from the bed where she'd painstakingly arranged herself for him.

"So you like?" she asked.

His eyes roved all over her, his lips tingling with anticipation.

"Oh, I like, I definitely like," he murmured, and she started to giggle before the cupcake on her stomach almost pitched over and she froze.

But Oliver was already there, steadying it, his finger smearing melted chocolate across her trembling skin.

For the first time in years, Oliver made a birthday wish - visions of their future together, of Felicity wearing his ring, her body swollen with his child, their children playing, of being happy, healthy and _content_; having everything he thought he'd signed away when he'd taken on the Arrow mantle until the source of all the light in his world steamrolled her way into his life, turning it upside down…

He wanted it all.

With her.

Oliver wished for it, and then he blew out the candle with a happy smile, setting it aside to thoroughly enjoy his cake.

The End

* * *

Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	8. Be Kind, Rewind

**Be Kind, Rewind**

By Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.  
Rating: T  
Author's Notes: Part of my You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream Olicity ficlet collection. Thank you for the support for this collection, every kudos, review, favorite and follow makes my world!  
Author's Notes 2: I sat on this story for literally three months. I wrote this on February 22 (yeah, I date my work), and I think the reason I never posted it was because I felt like it wasn't in character. I think past-me was wrong.  
Timeline: Set in the first half of Season 2 somewhere.

Summary: "Oliver," Felicity said, grabbing his arm and turning him. "Kiss me."

* * *

Her toes were dying a slow, agonizing death.

These shoes - these cute, sky-high shoes that she had found a mere three hours before the charity event tonight - were becoming the bane of her existence. And her existence included a lot of bane; she had a lot of bane to complain about.

For example, the fact that Oliver Queen - former billionaire playboy turned faux-CEO by day and hooded vigilante by night - could not get the damn security door relocked.

"What kind of security door doesn't just lock again when you close it?" Felicity whispered and Oliver grunted in response. "Is this how we're going to get caught, we're going to go to jail for _relocking a door_?"

"Felicity, now is not the time," Oliver whispered as he twisted the tools in hand, waiting for the click to sound.

Getting through the security door had been a breeze - it had given her false hope that they were going to have a 'wham, bam, thank you, Stan' sort of night, especially when she'd whipped out her phone, uploaded the trojan to the internal network and been out just as quickly.

It had been some of her best work, if she had to admit it; which she really did, because right now her work was far outshining that of Oliver's. She had made hers so easy and simple that it took a few keystrokes. His… was apparently more difficult.

His only job had been to break into the door - that was it, that was all. Of course it had been that simple before they realized the door didn't relock right away, and when it remained unlock for a total of eleven minutes - somebody needed to explain that time choice to her, stat - the alarm sounded.

Honestly, what kind of security door didn't automatically relock upon closing? It's like they were inviting people to break in.

Oliver cursed, and Felicity tapped a finger against her clutch. Her eyes were glued to the back of his head, but her ears were straining down the hallway, waiting for a guard to poke his head around and ask what the hell they were doing. She didn't have freakish sonar ears like Oliver, hers were more attuned to the subtle score changes in Fringe, not hearing the change in the air when someone walked through it or the near-silent steps of guards patrolling the hallways.

What she could hear was the music coming from the main floor two floors below, the tinkle of fake laughter and the chinking of champagne glasses.

They had already been gone too long.

She could just see Diggle where he waited for them, arms crossed, his jaw doing the clenching thing, eyes full of murder.

"This is taking too long, Oliver."

"Thank you, Felicity, I wasn't aware of that."

"Okay, mister, sarcasm does not sit well on you." Oliver sighed in exasperation. "Get relocking!"

"I'm trying!"

"Not very well, obviously."

Oliver held up a hand in aggravation, giving her a hard look over his shoulder. She met his stare head-on and he shook his head before pushing the tools back into the lock. Felicity fought the urge to tap her foot.

And then she heard something.

"Got it," Oliver said as the door locked again.

All her senses shot towards the head of the hall, ignoring the soft shuffle of Oliver's pants on the floor, the clicking of the metal tools and his gentle, even breaths.

Someone was coming.

"Crap," she whispered when she definitely heard footsteps.

Oliver stood, slipping the tools into their pouch before sliding it back into the breast pocket of his tux.

She glanced around, but the hallway was full of locked doors and at the opposite end was a bare wall with a water fountain. Nowhere to hide, not unless they unlocked the door he had just worked so hard to relock…

"Oliver," Felicity said, grabbing his arm and turning him. "Kiss me."

"What?" he asked, like she'd just told him to strip and streak down the hallway.

"Kiss me," Felicity hissed and she grabbed his face and yanked his head down to her level.

Felicity pressed her lips to his without preamble, clenching his face in a death grip between her hands.

The first thing she was aware of was that Oliver had amazing lips - they were full, very soft against hers, and she could still taste the few sips of the scotch he had ordered when they'd first arrived.

The second thing was that she was digging her nails into his skull and she immediately relaxed her hands.

The third thing was that Oliver was bent over her awkwardly, hands frozen at his sides like an uncomfortable tree.

And fourth, both of their eyes were wide open, and staring right at each other.

Felicity pulled back enough to snap, "At least put your arms around me," before shoving her lips against his again.

Oliver did as she said but they just rested on her waist, barely touching her bare back, as if her skin was covered in flesh-eating acid.

And then they just _stood there_.

When she wrote her memoirs, this moment right here was going to go down as the most horrifying and awkward moment of her entire life.

She was kissing Oliver Queen, and he was doing nothing but standing before her like a piece of stiff cardboard.

She didn't let herself take the time to appreciate how he felt against her - how much more broad his shoulders were now that they were _right there_ or how large his hands really were or that she was kissing him _at all_.

She'd thought about kissing Oliver, a lot - before he'd ever come into her office and definitely throughout all the time they had worked together, but it had become most prevalent since he'd come back from Lian Yu, since she'd felt the subtle shift between them.

She hadn't known what it was - she _still_ didn't know what it was - but she thought it might have been… something.

Clearly - _clearly_ \- she had been imagining it the entire time judging by how he was acting and now she was going to have to go bury her head in the ground and never come up for air again.

What was she doing, why had her brain immediately jumped to _kissing him_?

Felicity wasn't even aware of the guard at the top of the hall until Oliver pulled away, too consumed with the thought that Oliver had kissed literally hundreds of women, and he could barely scrounge up a measly ten percent of effort to kiss her back. Something dark and ugly settled in her chest, a ball of uncertainty and self-consciousness rising in her throat.

When she'd thought about a first kiss with him, this hadn't been it.

"Felicity, let go," he whispered, his hands circling her wrists gently but firmly.

"Right," she stuttered, immediately releasing her clawed hold on him. She avoided his eyes where they still rested on her face, and turned in a daze to look at the man waving a flashlight at them.

"Let's awkwardly kiss our boss another time, huh?" the guy said and humiliation and embarrassment rushed across Felicity like a tidal wave. He knew who Oliver was, who she was, and that she was there that night acting as his EA and nothing more… and it looked like she'd just attacked him and made a fool of herself.

Which she had.

"You guys aren't supposed to be up here, come on."

Felicity closed her eyes, pinching her lips and nodded. The flashlight felt like a spotlight made of fire on her face as she hugged her clutch to her chest and walked towards the guard, eyes on the floor.

Oliver was right behind her, eyes burning little holes into the back of her head.

"Sorry about that," Oliver smoothly to the man, barely a hitch in his voice, sounding for all the world like this was a common occurrence for him.

Which it probably was.

Just not with her.

Felicity should be feeling a bit of triumph. It had worked. Oliver had gotten the door locked, she'd gotten her foot in the door - as it were - and the distraction for the guard had obviously achieved its goal since he wasn't calling for backup of any kind, but she wasn't. No, all she felt was horror, humiliation, embarrassment, and… rejection. She'd just kissed Oliver and it had been nothing like she'd expected. The distraction had worked just like in the movies, but the kiss wasn't supposed to be so incredibly…

_Awful_.

So awful.

Oh god.

She was never going to be able to look him in the eye again.

Ever.

The guard smirked at them when they reached the stairs to go back downstairs, clearly amused, and the silence was deafening as they descended. The flashlight followed them for a moment before the guard clicked it off and continued on his rounds.

She was hyperaware of the fact that Oliver was right behind her, and she really needed to go find that glass of champagne she'd had earlier.

Or, like, three of them.

The glow of the party rose to meet them as they reached the main level and she sped up, eager to get to the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel in the form of the lighted fountain that was sprouting alcohol.

"Felicity," Oliver said behind her and she waved her hand without looking back.

"I really think we should go find John and make sure he knows we're not dead. Or worse, in jail," she said, nodding her head as she spoke. "He'll want to know that, because being dead is bad, and being in a jail cell in these shoes is bad - even worse I would wager because these shoes are not easy to stand in and I'm not sitting on those benches in this dress. We should tell him we're okay so he can at least stop doing that bicep thing he does because he's not exactly an unscary looking guy - he's very scary, in that big muscly way, and he can give glares like the best of-"

"Felicity," Oliver interrupted, dragging her name out in a way that made her stomach clench. Oliver cupped her elbow - making her stomach _drop_ \- and pulled her to a stop. "Hang on a second."

"I'd rather not," Felicity said, letting him pull her around so they were facing each other, but she didn't look at him, keeping her head turned so she could stare at the party, listening intently to the distinct sound of the champagne glasses leaving trays. Where was her glass? She wasn't a drinker, she didn't spend a lot of time drinking very much of anything, which made the sound of gulping down an entire glass a whole lot better. "We should get back, Oliver."

His hand came up to her shoulder and she closed her eyes, ready to hear the 'let's talk about better distractions' speech when his thumb rubbed across her collarbone.

Felicity's eyes snapped up to his.

He was looking at her; the shadows had to be playing tricks on her, because his eyes looked darker, more intense, more… Arrow-y.

Her heart swooped, her muscles tightening at the sight.

"Oliver?"

He didn't respond and her heart swooped for a different reason, a less fun reason.

"What?" she asked. "Was the kiss that bad?" An involuntary chuckle escaped him at that and her embarrassment came back tenfold, a heated blush sweeping across skin. She looked away again. "Okay, obviously it was. I'm sorry I did that, we need to come up with a better contingency plan for things like this than the ones that pop into my head."

Oliver stopped her, cupping her cheek with his free hand to force her to look back at him.

Time stopped and sped up at the exact same time.

"I don't think so," he said.

Oliver tipped her head back and then his lips were on hers.

Felicity inhaled sharply.

He kissed her, his lips pressed firmly to hers in a way that made her insides turn molten. And then he angled his head, his tongue slipping out and running across her lips, and she _melted_. Felicity moaned, opening her mouth in invitation and he took it, the hand on her shoulder slipping down to wrap around her waist, pulling her in.

This.

This is what she had thought would happen.

She vaguely heard her clutch fall to the floor as she grappled for something to hold onto before she wound her arms around his waist and pressed up against him, standing on her toes to get closer, no longer feeling the tight shoes or the awkwardness or anything but the sensation of… Oliver.

Oliver.

Was kissing her.

He was _kissing her_.

His warm hand pressed fully to the bare skin of her back, making her shiver in a way that had her chest pressing more fully to his, goosebumps erupting under his touch. He pulled her closer, the hand on her face tightening, angling her to match him perfectly as he controlled every inch of the kiss, a fire burning to life in her core.

She held on to him, kissing him back, her hand slipping up under his tux jacket and pressing to his warm back through the dress shirt.

It was his turn to shiver and something shattered in her chest at the sensation.

Felicity whimpered, nails digging into his spine and his kiss grew more heated, demanding more. His hand slid around to cup her open neck as he pushed her backwards and she met him step-for-step. She didn't have to think or wonder what was happening, she realized, because she trusted him implicitly.

He could take her anywhere and she would go.

A chorus of laughter from the party broke the moment.

Oliver stopped them short before they hit the wall, and Felicity whimpered her disappointment. Oliver gave her a tremulous breath against her lips, before he took another kiss, and another, not quite done. His tongue teased hers, his stubble scraping against her delicate skin…

She so, so wished they were anywhere else but there.

He slowly pulled away.

Her breathing was erratic and stilted and her heart tripped over itself when his nose nuzzled hers, his forehead pressing to hers, creating a little cocoon where nothing existed but them.

Oh-kay, she was clearly not as crazy as she thought… right?

Because _that_… that had been…

Neither of them moved for a long moment before Oliver licked his lips.

It was stunningly sensual.

It was literally stunning what that simple act did to her.

"I wasn't going to let that be our first kiss," he said, his voice rough, but laughter still laced his words.

Felicity froze. "What?"

First kiss? Like… he'd thought about there being a first kiss?

He nodded before stepping away. He adjusted his jacket and pressed some of her hair off her face before picking up her clutch. She could only stare at him, not reacting to the rampant amusement in his eyes or the half-smile curling his lips. He handed the clutch to her and she numbly took it in both hands, still staring at him.

His hand lingered, his thumb brushing against her knuckles, and her lips parted in a gasp as that tiny touch alone sent sparks dancing across her nerves.

"Come on," he said, tugging her hand slightly before letting it go. Right. Boss. Executive Assistant. "Let's go find Diggle."

Felicity didn't move to follow him.

He realized that after about ten steps.

"Felicity," Oliver said as he came back, shaking his head with a smile. He grabbed the clutch from her hand, holding it for her before wrapping her hand in his. "Come on."

She let him tow her blindly before she stopped him right as they were about to enter the main room again. The room had a decidedly different glow than it had a few minutes ago and everyone was very hazy, but Oliver was crystal clear when she looked up at him.

He was still holding her hand.

"First kiss…" she said, repeating his words. "Did we just do a 'be kind, rewind' thing there? Did we just Blockbuster a kiss? Not that I'm complaining, because I think it was definitely worth the Blockbustering, it was definitely one of the best rewind kisses ever, if that's even a thing… and I just compared our kiss to a VHS… I don't even think anyone owns a VCR anymore."

Oliver smiled, and it was a full-blown, Oliver Queen smile that left her knees feeling weak.

"Yeah," he said. "I think we did."

"Oh." Wow. _Wow._ "Okay."

When they found Diggle, he only had to take one look at them.

"Blockbuster," Felicity blurted.

Diggle quirked an eyebrow. "Haven't heard anyone call it that before."

The End

* * *

Tropes in fanfiction makes the world a freaking wonderful-er place.

Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


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